Back in black
by RMC1
Summary: Dean is dead. Worse still, he's a demon, with no foreseeable cure. In this story, the elder Winchester finally faces his greatest adversarie in the form of his own reflection.
1. Chapter 1

Back in Black

Dean awoke to a room embedded in of silence. He was in the bunker, stretched out haphazardly on his own bed. Everything was just the way he had left it. There was a mess of weapons cluttering the walls. Each was hung delicately on its respective stretch of plaster with the care that most people would associate with a piece of expensive art. Dean was proud of it. They gleamed like Christmas lights in December, all polished carefully, poised for anything that should come within shooting distance, just way he liked them. On his desk lay an old Polaroid photograph. It was at least thirty years old, softened at the edges from years of wear and tear. It was him and his mother. He wished he could remember what had made them smile that brightly. He couldn't. Dean could picture his father's writing, carelessly scrawled on the back, "Dean and Mary 1982."

Looking at the photograph had always provided a sense of comfort to dean. At the moment, it seemed to be eliciting the exact opposite. In its place he felt guilt. A deep feeling of dread welled in the pit of his stomach, though he wasn't sure why just yet. He felt somehow violated. Memories swirled at the edges of his consciousness, dark and brooding, none quite within his reach. Usually, not remembering certain things was a godsend, given his profession, not to mention the life he'd led so far. It felt like sugarcoating to say that his life sucked in a major way. For Dean, the hits had just kept coming from the age of four. For some reason, this time it felt different. He didn't like forgetting, not when he knew it was important. This time, he knew for sure. His current state of amnesia was unsettling to say the least.

The silence was broken by a discordant symphony of shattering glass and the splash of spilling liquid. Knowing his current environment, Dean figured it was liquor (blood seemed equally likely, but he chose to believe liquor was the culprit,) and the shattering of its respective container. "God _damn_ it Crowley." Sam's voice was low, barely audible, slurred by alcohol and wrought with pain that made it unbearable to hear. Dean cringed at the sound of it. Even from this distance, he could practically smell the Jack Daniel's on Sam's breath.

Dean wanted to remember. More than that, he wanted to know what the hell was going on. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. He pressed his fingers to his temples, wiling himself to remember. And then he did. It hit him full on, like a battering ram to the ribcage, nothing then everything, all at once, exploding like a supernova.

He could remember everything.

He remembered Metatron's blade sinking slowly into his stomach Dean remembered the hot pain racing up his spine the second it made contact and the smug grin on his face as Dean's face contorted with agony. He hoped Cas had torn him a new one by now. God knows, you don't mess with the nerd angels. He'd learned that lesson at Cas' hands pretty early on. A couple of years back, when Dean had been poised to make some particularly unwise decisions, Cas had straightened him out good and proper. For such a funny little guy, he sure could hold his own when things got messy(and he was more than a little bit terrifying when they did.)

He could remember the look on Sam's face the second he realized that he couldn't save Dean because Dean didn't want saving. He knew that face and he knew it well. Though he'd only seen it a number of times, it had burned its way into his mind permanently. He'd seen it when Dad died, he'd seen it the moment Sam jumped into the pit, and he'd seen it then. He couldn't stand it. Dean was raised to protect his brother, little Sammy, at all costs. When he saw that face, he saw reflected in it his own failures. There were so many.

He remembered his last words. "I'm proud of us." In that moment he had been. He and Sam had been through some pretty hell one to many times (both literally and figuratively,) and through it all they'd never lost sight of what really mattered. That was something he could be proud of. Towards the end, he'd been pretty convinced that Sam had let go of that. He'd gone so far as to say that they weren't even brothers anymore. The words had stung, but he refused to believe that Sam had really meant it. He hadn't. "I lied," Of all the words his brother had said that night, these stuck. They brought a smile to his lips, even though at a time like this, it seemed virtually impossible for him to smile at all.

Lastly, he remembered Crowley. His words still echoed in Dean's head.

_ "What you're feeling right now, it's not death."_ He checked for a pulse_ "It's life. A new kind of life. " _There was nothing, not the slightest flutter. "_Open your eyes, Dean." _ He was dead. He should be dead._ "See what I see. Feel what I feel." _Why couldn't he just die? "_Let's go take a howl at that moon."_ And then he understood.

For a moment he was frozen in place, listening to the clink of glass from the next room as Sam refilled his shot glass time and time again. That kid sure could hold his liquor. He thought of Cas. Had he won against Metatron? Dean sure as hell hoped so, that sorry son of a bitch deserved what was coming to him. He knew that if he got it, Castiel would be the one to deliver. Dean was proud of him. Cas had gone from soldier to rebel to God to human. It was one hell of a transition, and somehow, along the line, Castiel became their family. The winchester's were a dying breed, and Cas had been a brother to him, even as his own family dwindled. Before all this, he wished he'd have told Cas that. He deserved to know how much he meant to them. Dean feared that now he might never get a chance to say it.

What would Cas think of him now? Sure, he'd been pretty nonchalant with the whole Meg thing, but he was a bit out of his gourd at the time. Dean couldn't compare himself to Meg, and Cas was back to normal by now (or at least as close as a guy like him could get.) Plus, he was no unicorn. Sam had recounted_ that_ whole experience for Dean, and throughout the whole story he had cringed. Still, she was no villain, nor was she a martyr. Dean was different. He was no lost soul looking for repentance. Hell, he wasn't even sure he had a soul to begin with. Even if he did, he knew it wouldn't exactly be in mint condition. Dean was a monster, pure and simple. To think he was the righteous man. Backtrack to the point in time that the name was even applicable and even then it didn't seem to fit. That was only five years ago. It seemed like lifetimes. Dean was a different man (that is, if you could even call him a man with his current disposition.) He had become the very thing he had been trained to kill all of his life. It was pretty ironic actually.

Dean stood now on shaky legs. The mark on his arm burned scalding hot, like a branding iron. He made his way to the door, wincing when he heard Sam on the other side. Sam was the last thing he needed to be thinking of just then. One thing he'd learned as a hunter was that certain emotions were far more trouble then they were worth. Guilt, for one, was an excellent example of this. Sadly, guilt was easily the least avoidable of his emotions. _Oh well_, can't blame a guy for trying.He clicked the lock shut carefully, so Sam might not notice him doing so. Dean crossed the room, stopping in his tracks when he came into view of the mirror. It was like a car wreck, twisted and horrible, yet he couldn't find the willpower to look away. What he saw in the reflection was the single most vile, revolting sight he had ever laid eyes on. It was him alright, more of him than he would ever want to see.

All doubts he had for owning a soul evaporated then, like dust in a fragile breeze. He had a soul, and here it was, full circle. He'd seen things like this before. Before he'd gone to hell the twisted images of demon's faces had taunted him. Not like this though, it was never like this. This time it was a hell of a lot more terrifying. What he saw was not a man. It writhed like cigarette smoke in a dark alleyway, sharp as rusted razor blades and cold as December icicles melted to a point. No, it was not a man, it was an abomination. It was him, Dean Winchester. The only way Dean could identify it as himself was by the mark of Cain, plastered on his forearm. It glowed softly, like candlelight or the embers of a flame, lingering at the edge of darkness. Worse than the rest were his eyes. What he'd expected was a set of solemn black orbs, Instead they were his own. Two green eyes, cold and heartless. The emptiness wasn't exactly a new occurrence; the light had drained from his eyes years ago. His fingers brushed the cold glass surface and he flinched. That's when it happened. He blinked. And there they were, jet black. The way they shimmered, it looked like the impala every time he'd given it a fresh coat of paint and the way it gleamed when the sunlight first hit its metal surface. He couldn't stand to look any longer, and turned away.

Just then he heard the soft flapping of wings in the distance. Cas? It had to be, though at the moment it seemed unlikely, given the fact that he almost certainly had other places to be. Heaven and the like. Or dead. Then he heard a voice, deep and rough, like a country road in need of fresh pavement. Yep, it definitely was Castiel. No one else had a voice quite like it. He pressed his ear to the door, listening for what they would say.

"You should have been there." Sam muttered accusation clear in the bitter tone of his voice. Cas didn't deserve it. He'd done nothing wrong.

"I know." He cleared his throat.

"So it's true then?" There were cracks in Cas' voice. "Metatron said..."Castiel paused, searching for words, but none were needed. Cas knew the answer to his question. He knew it wasn't the answer that he was hoping for. It never was. His voice dropped an octave. "He said Dean didn't make it." Sam inhaled sharply before giving his answer. "No. He didn't. I…." His voice trailed off.

_It's life. A new kind of life. _

"I hate to think that he might not have wanted to." Sam was right, Dean didn't want to live, not like this. He hated to think that his little brother might not even want him in this state. How could he? Dean been one-hundred percent human every time Sam had turned on him so far, who was to say he'd even hesitate this time around?

"I should have been there with you Sam." Before Sam could reply, Cas cut him off. "We were like family, Sam Winchester." His voice had changed to something dean had never heard before; it was low and faltered at every syllable. "I should have protected you, the both of you, and I failed."

"It's okay Cas, you did the best you could. Dean would have been proud of you." Cas' voice returned mostly to the way it had been before, broken, but not entirely unidentifiable. "He was proud of us, both of us."

Sam cleared his throat, dismissing the subject "I tried summoning Crowley earlier, but for some reason he didn't show." _Like hell he didn't. _Dean thought to himself. "I can find him." Castiel said abruptly, his voice taking on a sudden note of authority. "Don't bother," Sam replied, "He got us into this mess, I'm not asking any favors from him."

_ "Crowley," Dean muttered underneath his breath. Their voices melded into white noise as he concentrated on hat his next move would be. He could find Crowley. Crowley knew what this was, he would have answers. He racked his brain for some way to get to him, ticking through his mental list of people who would even consider helping him._

_ There was Sam. He could hear Sam in the next room. That one was definitely not going to happen. He couldn't let Sam see him like this. He remembered Jessica, her pretty blond hair billowing in the flames as it blackened to a merciless cloud of thick grey smoke. That too had been the work of a demon, and not even in accord to some dark and cruel scheme. Jessica had been killed for sport. No, Sam couldn't see him like this. Sam had seen enough. _

_There was Cas. God, how he wanted Cas' help. Dean quickly brushed this off. Cas had more important things to worry about (all of heaven for starters.) They were brothers Sam, Cas and Dean: team free will. __A defective angel, a moose, and a demon walk into a bar. __Dean might have laughed had the circumstances been different. _

_Garth. He was a hunter. No, Garth wasn't just a hunter. Garth was a godsend. He was a ray of sunshine in the dismal world of hunting. Dean hated to think of how a guy like him got into hunting, all he knew was that it couldn't be pretty. Anyways, he'd gotten out. Garth had been bitten by a werewolf on his very last hunt, and coincidentally met the love of his life along the way. Dean could ask him for help. He might understand. But could he really do much to help? No, he needed Crowley's help, as much as he hated to admit it. Besides, he had no right to drag Garth into something like this. Poor guy had just gotten out, and a case like Dean was the last thing he needed._

_He had Ellen and Jo (dead) Bobby (dead) Gabriel (dead, maybe..?) His contact list was looking a bit like an obituary page these days. It was times like this he really missed having a guy like Bobby around. Bobby always had answers, and he always had a place for him and his brother, like the father he'd never had, but always wanted. Hell; he'd have gone to his father._

_ The moment it crossed his mind he regretted it. His father wasn't a good man. His mind drifted back to every Christmas his father had forgotten, and every birthday. No, John Winchester was not a good father, he wasn't a good man either. The one thing he knew was how to hunt. Had he been alive right now Dean would have just been another name on his hit list. His father wouldn't help Dean, and he sure as hell wouldn't help a monster. _

_He forced his mind away from the topic._

_Dean wondered if he had any demon mojo. He wouldn't be resorting to that though, not if he could help it. Sam had been down that road before, and it hadn't lead to a single good thing (that is unless you consider the apocalypse a positive.) Dean's current situation __was __a bit more serious though. The blood pumping through his veins wasn't just tainted though, it was full on poisoned, along with the rest of him. _

_He glanced back at the mirror, still refusing to believe that the cold black demon eyes really were his own. It was then that he heard a soft metallic clatter. Sam. He was trying to come in. _

_"What the hell?" Sam exclaimed as the door refused to open. Dean panicked at the thought of Sam seeing him like this, or, god forbid, Cas, with his Angel laser vision. It wouldn't be pretty_

_"It appears to be locked," Castiel commented dryly. __Thank you captain obvious__, Dean thought to himself. "I can see that." Sam retorted. Dean could hear him jimmying the lock with a paper clip. He was paralyzed. He could feel his eyes flicker back and forth, green to black. It was a strange feeling, like the shutter of a camera. It stopped just as abruptly as it had started, and he glanced nervously at the mirror. Black. It was then that the door swung open._

_Looking at the two of them was strange. He could see them. More than that, he could see inside of them. He could see Castiel's grace, though it was dimming by the second. He could see Cas' wings. They were battered, barely visible, stripped of all but a few of their feathers which gleamed blue-black, like that of a raven carved from purest obsidian. And Sam, there was something so pure in Sam, yet broken, a goodness he wore on his sleeve clear as crystal. He could see that now, though it was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was. All three of them were silent. A look of terror settled on Sam's face._

_"Get out of him." Sam bellowed, stepping closer. Dean stumbled back, wincing at the hatred lacing his brother's voice. He deserved every bit of it, he knew that. Cas Narrowed his eyes and his head tilted to the side. His arm shot out to grab Dean, who made no move to resist. Sam stopped, waiting for the angel to make his move. He looked hard into Dean's black eyes and something burst inside of him. The second Castiel made contact with Dean he could feel his eyes flash back to green. They met with the deep blue of Cas' eyes, which had narrowed in confusion._

_"It's him, Sam. It's Dean." Sam furrowed his brows. "No, it… he couldn't be." Dean nodded to him solemnly and Sam's gaze fell to the floor, the hurt in his eyes cut into dean like a dagger. He wanted to ignore it, but it seemed impossible. "Cas…" Dean said, his voice barely clearing a whisper. Cas dropped his arm. Dean shifted his gaze. "Sam…" If there was ever a time to use any mojo he may or may not have, this was it._

_"I'm sorry." He said, snatching the blade from his bedside and in one fluid motion, snapped his fingers and was gone._


	2. Chapter 2

The Righteous Man

Dean had absolutely no idea where he'd end up after he'd escaped the bunker. At the moment he didn't particularly care, as long as it was far enough away from where he had been. It seemed that he was, there was no way cas could zap to him from this distance(not without depleting his fading grace at least somewhat, if not entirely.)The sight of Sam and Cas' faces was burned into his retinas. The guilt of it was too much for him to handle. He clenched his jaw and tried to forget it because Dean couldn't stand to think of it. Just hours ago he'd been a man. He'd been a hero. All of that was gone now, and he hated himself for it.

He knew that none of what was happening was his fault, none of them had really known what this would do, but he didn't care. It might as well have been his fault. Again the same question that he'd been asking himself this whole time crossed his mind; _why can't I just die? _

He'd been yanked from his graves time and time again for years now. He would have offed himself by now if it wasn't for Sam and Cas. His family. He couldn't put them through that. The both of them had lost more than anyone should have to. Hell, Cas had lost more or less every one of his brothers and sisters, it had all been for Dean, the righteous man. Dean knew he wasn't exactly a sound investment. He was pretty much the opposite actually. All that Castiel had lost, it was all for nothing now. Maybe it would have been better if he had just died. It would be a hell of a lot less trouble.

His surroundings seemed familiar for some reason. He strained his eyes to see where he might be. Knowing his luck as of late, it couldn't be good. He felt it again, a wave of unbearable guilt overtaking his senses. No, it definitely wasn't good. A streetlight popped in the distance, submerging the road in a blanket of darkness. Even in the pitch black of night, he knew this place. It was tucked back in his memory almost instinctually.

The road around him was lined with neat green lawns, each which had clearly been carefully pedicured as if any day now, the residents expected them to appear in a homeowner's pamphlet. Across the street was a rusted out swing set. There were two seats, both in clear states of disrepair. The chain of one single swing creaked weakly then snapped as if in response to his pity for the pathetic little structure. The last swing swayed softly in the chilly breeze. It gave Dean a melancholy feeling, like a sweet memory long since turned sour.

Yes, he knew this place. Dean was in Lawrence, Kansas. It was where he had been born, and where he'd lived for the first four years of his life. It was also the last place had just gotten to be a kid. God, he hadn't been to Lawrence in years, not since the angel showdown at Stull cemetery, around the edge of town. Funny, the bunker was only a couple of counties over, an hour's drive at most. Still, he couldn't have felt further from it.

The playground, he realized was the same one he'd gone to as a child. That is, before he was forced into adulthood at the ripe old age of four and a half. He could see it clearly now, his mother, holding Sammy like she'd never let go and Sam, unable to imagine a world where she wouldn't be there. He could still see the sky, so blue it hurt to look at it directly, not a cloud in sight. He remembered the feeling of the swing beneath him, soaring like a bird to a sky he knew so well. It couldn't have been days before the night of the fire.

He remembered Sam in his lap, the two of them watching the playground from the back seat window of the impala, vanishing as they drove to their new life. Dean still didn't talk much at that point, but seeing that had made him want to. His father hadn't given it so much as a fleeting glance. He just drove past, eyes glued to the road ahead as if it was the only one he could take. That playground held the last good memory Dean had of his family before it all went to hell. Funny enough, John appeared nowhere in that memory.

He approached the swing set then, reaching his hand out to brush the coarse and rusted surface. All this time he'd wondered if it was a dream. He'd wondered if his last good memory with his mother really no more than a figment of his young mind, trying to cope with things he couldn't yet understand. That was what he had believed for the past 32 years, but here it was. It gave Dean a sense of hope. He wondered if Sammy would remember and he wanted him to so badly. He knew that his brother wouldn't. Dean sat there for a moment. He pushed the swing gently with three outstretched fingers and thought of his mother. She had been there that day watching proudly as dean swung, higher and higher. At the time he believed that he might touch the sky. Never would he have imagined instead how far he could fall.

Birds began to chirp overhead announcing the slivers of daylight that had begun to appear as the sun began to rise over the houses. It started slow, just a bit of baby blue staining the rims of the eastern sky, barely clearing the horizon. Dean stood still, not wanting to miss a moment of the sunrise. He'd seen it so many times, but not once had it looked quite the same. Things like this never ceased to amaze him. Every color imaginable bled slowly from the ragged skyline. He soaked each one of them in as the light fell in golden beams over his freckled face. Fleecy clouds hovered around the horizon. They flushed pink for a moment before the color drained and they returned to the pristine white of daytime.

He turned and walked down the road a bit, dodging a broken bottle that lay ground to dust on the rough gray asphalt. The walk was long into town, even on a shorter route. Dean would have killed to have his baby here with him, not to mention his brother in the passenger seat, and his angel in the back. Just the car would have been fine though.

He shrugged the thought off, the thought of the two of them put to much weight on his conscience right now. That was the last thing he needed. Having the impala right now would have been a damn blessing. God knows he could use one on a day like today. Dean could practically hear the purr of the engine as it glided down a country back road, just as it had so many times before. He thought of the cool leather pressed against his skin and radio blaring the same songs it always had. Traveling this whole way wasn't going to be fun and his using his demon mojo was out of the question. Yeah, the car would have been nice.

Back at the bunker, Sam poured two generous shots of Jack Daniel's into a pair of shot glasses. He took one for himself, and slid the other in Cas' direction, Motioning for him to sit. Neither of them had spoken so much as a word since Dean had left. They had nothing to say. Cas sat down, but refused the drink with a shake of his head. Sam took the extra dose himself; he was going to need it (along with the rest of the bottle quite possibly.)

"What now?" Sam said.

"I don't know, though I might suggest we try and find your brother." Cas replied gruffly, "He needs to know he isn't alone."

"You're right about that."Sam said, "Whatever's left of him, we have to try." He swirled the bottle in his hands a bit, watching as the amber fluid fell from side to side. "He's still my brother."

"I can dispatch a team of angels; they'll have him in under an hour." Cas said curtly, "Though I doubt that will go over very well with Dean."

"If we're going to have any luck at getting him back, we have to do it ourselves," Sam agreed.

"Well, not time like the present," Cas said rising from his seat.

"Damn straight." Sam replied, taking the last swig of whiskey from the bottle. It burned all the way down his throat. "Let's go."

Dean passed their old house on his way into town. It had been painted recently and glowed faintly white underneath the shade of the same mossy oak tree in the side yard. He and Sam had come here almost ten years ago in response to a haunting they had believed to be his mother, or maybe even whatever had killed her. It had turned out to be Mary, but she wasn't alone. Even in death, Mary Winchester was protecting those around her. The house had been plagued by a poltergeist fixed solely on the murder of the people who resided there. The young mother and her two son's had a barely made out, after one simple mistake in the hunt had caused the specter to go into hiding. They'd thought it had gone. They were wrong.

Dean remembered the case clearly. It had been one of the first times he'd really lost faith in his father. Dean had called and called, desperate for his father's help, getting only the same voicemail he'd been getting for the past couple months. Every so often, Dean would call the number now and again. Hell, he even paid the bill. Of course he knew that John wouldn't pick up, he'd been dead as a doornail for around 8 years now. He just wanted to hear his old man's voice one more time. At a certain point, dean had accepted that his father had better places to be, only to learn that he'd been in Lawrence the entire time, waiting in the wings. Just like always, he was too busy hunting down the thing that had killed their mother to give a damn about either Sam or Dean. He hated to admit it, but that was pretty typical for him. In the end, his mother had taken on the ghost herself, putting both it and her to rest, but not before taking just a moment to speak to each of them.

It was the first time Sam had ever really heard her voice, and also the first time he'd been able to speak back. She said she loved them, both of them, and that she always would. Now, Dean doubted that if she knew what he'd become, that she still would. Then, the words had made a chill rundown his spine as he realized that no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much Sam or his Father or anyone had loved her, love wouldn't bring her back. If it could, he wouldn't be here in this situation. In the end, both of them had been put to rest. Their father's friend (Missouri, a psychic) had made sure of it.

Of course. Missouri. How had he forgotten her? Maybe she could help him, that is, if she still even lived in Lawrence. It was worth a shot. Last time he'd seen her, he had all kinds of other things to deal with. Sammy's powers had just been kicking up, John was nowhere to be found, and Azazel was still at large. It was a mess. Needless to say, at the time Missouri wasn't exactly of prime importance. Now, he was alone and he could really use an ally, even if it didn't last for long. Maybe she wasn't exactly the worst candidate. He walked a bit faster now that he had a destination.

Sam and Cas went through the bunker, taking whatever they felt might help them get to Dean. Though their plan was the only hope they had, it still didn't seem likely that it would work. They bickered over who would drive if and when they needed it and which car they would take, seeming more and more like brothers all the while.

The impala was something personal to them and might just play a part in getting dean back. That was true. There was so much history packed into that car, so many of their stories resided in its glossy metal shell. For pretty much their entire life it was the closest thing they had to a home. On the other hand, Cas' pimp car was a lot more inconspicuous.

Castiel didn't bring it up, but he'd missed this. Funny as it may seem, angels did have a concept of family, and this was it, not blood, but who you chose for yourself. Castiel liked his choices. They managed to pack as much as possible. They had spray paint, holy water, an angel blade, and no intent to use any of it unless they had to. The both of them hoped that they wouldn't.

Dean had never lost faith in either of them, even in their darkest moments. Cas had killed his own brothers, betrayed both of the Winchesters countless times and made mistakes that led to the fall of every single angel in heaven and his own humanity. His grace still wasn't restored, and Castiel feared that it might never be.

Sam had been hell's chew toy since he was six months old; gotten himself addicted to demon blood of all things, and even jumped into hell head first (all while packing Satan himself in his head, like his own personal jiminy cricket.) Of all of these things, though, what Sam regretted most was every time he'd failed Dean.

All of this was his fault, and Sam knew it. He'd told Dean all of those terrible things in a moment of hurt feelings. Hell, he'd even said that they weren't brothers.

One of the last words that Dean had said before death was, "what happened to you being okay with this." It was in that moment that he knew just how deep his words had cut. Dean had played it off at the time he'd said it, but just before he died, dropped the act. Sure, he'd reassured him that he'd been lying that whole time, but he knew that it did little to console Dean. He knew that it had been those words that drove him to accept the mark of Cain. Dean had figured he had nothing to lose and thrown caution to the wind. No, Dean hadn't been against the idea of dying, but he didn't' deserve what he'd gotten. No one deserved a burden like he'd gotten.

Cas didn't tell Sam, but along with the holy water stashed in the left pocket of his trench coat was something else. It had been Deans, and he knew that if anything would, this would get through to him. It was something he'd been saving for a long time. Eventually, they hatched a plan, and though Sam was uneasy with certain aspects of it, Cas was confident that it would work. It had to.

Dean wandered through Lawrence a bit on his way there. This whole thing would have been a hell of a lot easier if he knew the city as well as he'd wished. At one pint he'd stopped at a diner. Not that he was hungry; he hadn't needed to eat in a couple of days, not since he'd first began feeling the effects of the mark. He stopped because he felt like it. The waitress was hot as hell (Dean knew, he'd been there.) Any other day he would have been happy to give her a little taste of his Winchester charm, but not today. Nonetheless, she'd flirted shamelessly with him, bending over a _little_ farther than necessary to wipe a coffee stain from the table. She hadn't even gotten it all the way.

Dean ordered a single slice of cherry pie. When he bit into it he was grateful that it was just pie. He'd been afraid that he'd only taste molecules, just like Cas had with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. One thing was different about it though. For some reason, it burned softly on the way down his throat, like whiskey or hot peppers. That would be the salt. He thought of ruby, she'd had a thing for fries (and for corrupting Sam.) Fries were salty, he wondered how she'd done it. He finished most of his pie before it occurred to him that he might not have any money.

He checked the pockets of his black leather jacket. There was his blade, a fake F.B.I badge, his license (or the license of some dude named Herman.) Finally he fished out a twenty. He left it underneath the plate and hightailed it out of there. There were only a couple of blocks to Missouri's place.

Thank god, she hadn't moved. He could see that by the hunting sigil's posted around the entranceway. It took him a moment to work up the courage to knock. Turns out he didn't have to. She opened the door abruptly.

"Dean..?" She asked.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, It's me." "How've you been Missouri?"

"I've been fine boy, come on in," She said.

Missouri looked the same as the last time he'd seen her. Her hair was a bit shorter though. She was wearing all kinds of jewelry. He eyed her necklaces, of which she had at least five currently adorning her neck. They looked heavy. She had what looked like an anti-possession tattoo on her wrist, and angel warding snaking up her left calf.

"Listen, I've got a bit of a situation that I could really use your help with." He said "If you've got the time."

She eyed him up and down meticulously "I can see that," she said.

"It's bad Missouri, really bad." Dean said, "If it's too much you have every right to tap out, I'd do it myself if I could."

"Dean, I said come in, I'll see what I can do for you."

"I don't think you get it…" He said, flicking his eyes to black for a moment.

She began to walk down the hall without him, shoving aside a small rug from the middle of the hallway. "You'll want to avoid that." Dean stood at the doorway for a moment, surprised by how nonchalant she was acting towards the whole situation. "You comin' or not?" She said sharply.

He followed her in. She sat dean down on her brown plush couch, looking at him sternly with raised brows when he began to put his feet up on the coffee table. "Don't think that just 'cause you're some kind of bad guy now that I won't smack you." He believed her.

"Where's your brother in all of this mess?" She asked.

"I'm better off alone."

"No one's better off alone, boy." She said. "They're worried sick about you, even the angel, It was his Job to protect you know" Her voice had taken on a note of scolding. "Don't even start with Sam, he's been hitting the bottle something fierce since you left."

"I find that hard to believe." Dean said gruffly.

It was then he felt a strange sensation, like he was stuck in place by a force he couldn't identify. He looked up. There was a devil's trap painted to the ceiling. Dean drew his blade from the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Why don't you just ask them?" Missouri said as the two of them immerged from the doorway.


	3. Chapter 3

Humanity

Dean's heart caught in his throat the second Sam and Cas walked through the battered doorway. Missouri had a grave look plastered on her face. The woman could read people like no one he'd ever met before and even she looked scared now. She backed away before leaving entirely. Dean felt like a cornered animal. He stared up at the devil's trap sprayed on the ceiling. He was stuck. They had to be behind this. They'd known where he was going to be, and they were here to finish him off.

He waited for the final blow like a little kid on the night before Christmas morning. He didn't know yet if he could actually die at this point, but he was hoping he could. If Sam and Cas had found a way to swing t, he wasn't going to argue, he hoped it hurt. If he suffered, he deserved it. Dean knew that. Sam stood back, a look of pure unbridled sadness in his eyes, which were now brimming with tears. Cas walked swiftly and towards Dean, a look of determination set in his narrowed blue eyes.

This is what Castiel had looked like the first time Dean had ever seen him. That day played over in his mind now. He didn't know why he'd been chosen yet, why he of all people deserved to live. He'd reckoned that if was a demon deal at the time. Cas had said that Dean didn't think he deserved to be saved. Cas had been right. Dean hadn't deserved to be saved. He knew that for sure now. He wasn't much, just a good man headed down a bad road. There were plenty of guys just like him. Eventually Cas was one of them. He'd seemed so strong in those early days, so unbeatably and incurably sure of it too. He never imagined that an angel like Cas would fall. Here he was though, fallen in every way, all for a man who didn't want to be saved. He hoped that before the lights went out he'd be able to apologize.

He reached for the blade stashed in the inner pocket of his leather jacket instinctually, and drew it out. The white bone shaft glowed like it was made of moonlight. It was still flecked with blood. Dean couldn't remember how it had gotten there. Sam averted his eyes the second it appeared, as if fearing the worst. Castiel's stride did not falter. He stopped just out of Dean's reach and opened his mouth to speak.

"Dean." He said, tilting his head to the side. Cas always did this when faced with things he couldn't understand. "Why are you doing this," he asked, "Why are you running from us?"

The question caught Dean off guard. He'd expected for them to be angry. Hell, he'd expected them to be absolutely livid. He hated to admit it, but he'd sort of wanted them to be. It would have been better than this. Instead their eyes were vacant.

"Why shouldn't I be?" He shouted, "You of all people Cas." He said, "You can see me," He motioned to himself "I'm broken, I'm poison."

Cas raised his voice then to a volume Dean had never heard from the angel before. "You said it yourself Dean, I'd rather have you, cursed or not!" He looked back at Sam, who nodded slightly in response. "You meant it then, and I mean it now."

He remembered it clearly. They'd been fighting side by side for years now. They were kindred spirits. Both of them had been soldiers to an absent father. Cas hadn't even met his father. It seemed that God wasn't much of a family man after all. Dean needed a guy like Cas, and he'd have him no matter how far gone he was.

Sam looked terrible, his face was unshaven and his long hair lay to the side of his head in a lopsided clump. Dean wondered if the first blade was any good for cutting hair. He hadn't really looked this bad since one year ago, when he was going through the trials.

Cas looked no better. His trench coat was stained and two of the buttons on his shirt had fallen off and rolled away. Cas' grace was still dimming, faster now than it had been before. There wasn't much left at all now. He wanted what was coming to him, not this. He didn't need this guilt hanging over his head.

Dean looked over at Sam a second time and he shuffled forward slightly as their eyes met. "How did you get here Sam?"

Sam replied carefully. Unlike Cas, who stood behind him then, his voice was quiet and defeated. "You can still call me Sammy you know."

"I used my grace," Cas said, answering the question for him "Or what's left of it at least, it's fading faster than I'd expected."

That was the last thing that Dean wanted to hear. "Hate to say it Cas, but of all the stupid things you've done, this takes the cake," He said, "I'm not worth it." "How'd you swing it anyway? I thought I was warded."

The enochian sigils weren't the type of thing that just faded overnight. No angel should have been able to find him, especially not Cas. Cas barely had any mojo to speak of.

"It takes a bit more than that to mask something like you." Sam said.

Something. Not someone. Those words hurt like a slap to the face, especially from his brother. They wouldn't have if he didn't agree with them.

Cas took another step forward, and Dean pointed the first blade in his direction. "Don't think I won't do it, I'm not exactly a hero anymore."

He hadn't said it out loud until just then. He was no hero. No matter how steep the cost to pay he'd been a hero his whole damn life. Any good left in him had been eclipsed by this darkness and dean couldn't see the light anymore. He wasn't even really sure he wanted to.

"You don't have to be a villain Dean," Sam said, "You have a choice."

"Do I really Sam?" Dean let his eyes flick back to black for a split second. and watched as the two of them flinched. "You can't even look at me, either of you! What the hell kind of choice do I have, because I'm not seeing to many options at this point."

He jabbed the blade again in their direction. "If I could kill myself I would, you know that don't you?" He said "Cas? Sam? You know I'd do it in a heartbeat." He lowered his voice to a dull mutter. "If I really had a choice, that's what I'd pick. No questions asked"

None of them said a word at that point. There seemed to be nothing left to say. Words couldn't fill the gap between them. He could see the frustration build on Cas' face.

Suddenly the silence was broken "When I thought that you were dead, Dean Winchester, I wanted to join you." Castel said in a very matter-of fact way. "I didn't mind my grace running out if it meant that I could. I'm burning up my grace tight here, right now, and I'm doing it for you. Because you're alive, and now I have a reason to be.

"I've given up everything for you, and I'd do it again." He looked less angry now, and more sad, "Why doesn't that matter to you?"

"It does. Dean said. "Believe me, it does."

"You're not a monster Dean, you're a hero." Said Sam, "I'm not giving that up now, not yet." Sam said, "We're blood, and I'm not going to forget it this time."

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to." Dean said. He could feel rage welling up in his stomach. He didn't need this, not any of it.

"No." Sam said.

"Sorry Sammy, but I'm not giving you a choice, you either Cas." He could feel the anger building in his mind, like a lethal storm cloud the moment before it delivered its first blow. He could hardly control it. "You need to leave," Dean said. Sam began to object but was cut off. "I said leave."

He could feel heat prickling on his forearm. The mark. The blade was clasped tightly to his palm. He had no intention of letting go. In the back of his mind something snapped. Had his heart not stopped already, it would have busted through his chest by now. It was exhilarating. It was terrible and beautiful and wrong all at once. He knew that he was dead, but god, he'd never felt so alive.

He looked to the ceiling. Hairline cracks formed in the paint. He focused harder and they expanded. The circle was nearly broken.

"Dean, stop." Cas said this desperately, but Dean refused to listen. He couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to.

The drywall overhead snapped with a sickening pop. He wanted to stop now. Dean wanted to stop. This wasn't him. He stepped foreward, freed now from his bindings. Missouri had fled already. She wouldn't get hurt now. She was safe.

Sam stood his ground. With a single flick of the wrist dean had him pinned against the wall.

"Stop please," Sam said, his voice broken up by gasps as he tried to free himself. "Dean, this isn't you, you're better than this."

"And how the hell would you know?" Dean bellowed in reply.

"Because I know _you_ Dean." He said.

"Sorry to disappoint." Dean said, turning now to Cas.

There was fear in Cas' eyes, but a determined set to his jaw as he fought to hide it. Dean was no longer in control. The rage was the work of the mark, but Dean new it had been inside him all of this time. The mark just enhanced it, hardening his heart and sharpening the blade in hands. He could tell that Sam was trying to speak, but Dean had him pinned hard enough that he couldn't.

He approached Cas, black eyes studying Cas' waning form. He was an angel, but only just barely now. Still Cas brace himself for attack. His splintered wings spread to their full extent. Sam's eyes widened. He could see them in their entirety. Dean grinned maliciously and flipped the blade over in his hand.

"Let's go, you and me angel," He said. Sam struggled for breath against the wall, what sounded like protests emanating from his mouth.

"I don't want to hurt you Dean," He said desperately, reaching for his weapon, which was stashed in an inner pocket of his signature trench coat.

"Don't worry Cas, I doubt you could,"

He frowned in frustration pulling his angel blade free from his pocket. It was clean, polished, and shone like it had been freshly polished. Dean's own blade was the opposite. Blood speckled the shaft and caked the hairline cracks in the bone. His mark was burning hot as hell.

They fought then. It's not every day that you see an angel and a demon going at it (in a non- sexy way,) and damn was it something to see. Cas paused for only a moment to spit blood. The whole time, Castiel never stopped begging Dean to stop. Dean didn't listen, he had fight in his blood and murder in his eyes. He couldn't stop, and deep down, he didn't want to. Where Cas was quick, Dean was quicker. Cas was strong but dean was stronger. It was no match. Castiel was backed by heaven but Dean had hellfire running through his veins.

Finally, Cas weakened, his wings had shattered and his stolen grace was holding on by a thread. It was only a matter of time before it would be gone completely. Dean stood over Cas' crumpled form.

He pulled Castiel up by the collar. "Please," he pleaded, "Dean, I know you're still in there."

Cas coughed and blood spattered the floor, "I know this isn't you. I forgive you."

Dean's cold eyes met with Cas' which were widened in terror. He'd never seen him this scared before. He shook slightly. Dean could feel his lade sink into Cas' side. The color drained from his face as his the last of his grace disappeared.

Dean's voice lowered to a guttural growl as his eyes melted to black, "What's the matter Angel, Scared of the Dark?"


	4. Chapter 4

Fallen Heroes

Dean couldn't feel a thing, as Cas crumpled to the floor, he went numb. It felt surreal, like he was seeing the world through a fog.

"Dean," Castiel choked out. "I'm sorry."

He could see that he'd hurt Castiel, maybe he'd even killed him. Still, he hadn't felt a thing. It was as if the whole thing had been a nightmare. It felt like the faster he ran from the darkness inside of him, the more light slipped from his fingers. He stood there panting, unable to grasp entirely what was going on. Dean lost his grip on Sam, who tumbled to the floor and gasped for air like a fish out of water. He could see Castiel's blood splattered on the wall, staining the creases of his knuckles. Dean wiped his face and rusty stripes of crimson streaked his hands. He snapped out of his trance.

_I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you._

The words echoed his head. They had been spoken a long time ago. Still, they'd never lost the truth that they'd held that day. Castiel had done everything for him, he'd given up _everything_. Why couldn't he return the favor? It had been Castiel's job to protect him. Of all the people Cas could have chosen to guard, how had he gotten stuck with the one person who he couldn't.

It reminded him of himself actually. Dean of all people knew you could only protect someone so much. In the end, you could only help someone as much as they want to be helped. He'd learned it time and time again with Sam. There were some people who, no matter how much you cared about them, you could never save. He looked down at Cas, beaten and bloody against Missouri's old floral carpeting. This was his fault.

"Cas?" He said. "Oh my God, Cas." He began to back away. He dropped the blade and it clattered onto the floor. The white of the bone was masked by blood now, slick and red. He needed to get the hell out of there. He couldn't see this, he couldn't know that it was him who had done this. Cas was fighting for consciousness now.

"Dean, wait," He said. Castiel pulled something from his pocket and held it out. He couldn't see what it was from the distance between them, but the look in Cas' eyes made him want to. Dean walked cautiously towards him, stepping over the blade on his way. Sam stood up, his hands, rubbing at his neck, and walked over to help Cas.

What Cas held in his hands rendered the two of them speechless. It was Dean's amulet. Sam had given it to Dean on Christmas twenty seven years ago. I gleamed gold, dangling from its black leather chain.

A few years ago, the angels had said that it was special. They'd said that it burned hot in the presence of God. Sam and Dean had been just as eager as the angels to use it. All of that had been during the apocalypse. If they found god, they'd thought, he could help them with what they'd started. He could stop Michael, stop Lucifer. He could stop all of it. They'd been so ready to find him, but when the time came they came up with nothing. In spite, Dean had thrown it away. For years now Dean had wanted it back, knowing that he'd made a mistake when he'd gotten rid of it. Now, it was here.

"Take it," Cas said, his word slurring into each other. "It's yours."

Dean picked it up carefully, turning it over in his hands as if it were made of glass and might break at his touch. It was a relic from another time, a memory he could hold. In his hands was another life. When he'd worn this, he'd been a different man. Dean pulled it over his head.

"Thanks Cas," He said. Maybe if he tried he could be that man again. Cas smiled a bit before coughing again.

Sam spoke then, and Dean flinched at the sound of his voice. "We've got to get you back to the bunker," He said, slinging one of Cas' arms over his shoulder. Dean stood back, looking on with guilt on his eyes.

"I need any help I can get Dean."

"But…" Dean began to object

Sam shot him a look of sincerity before continuing. "Please,"

Sam picked up the blade and wrapped it in a scrap of Castiel's mangled trench coat, which lay in tattered pieces across the expanse of Missouri's parlor. He shoved it into the pocket of his stained work coat.

The two of them half carried half dragged Cas out to the impala. He was heavy. Once they'd managed to cram him into the backseat. Sam took the blade back to the trunk. Dean followed him, even helping him touch up the devil's trap on the hood. It really was best that they kept the blade out of his reach. God knows what it did to him. He looked at Cas, slumped against the leather upholstery and felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.

"I'm guessing you'll want to drive," Sam said, "I'll keep an eye on Cas in the back."

"No," Dean replied, "I'll take backseat."

Sam looked puzzled for a moment before nodding in response. Dean climbed in, moving Cas over carefully so he could have some space. The backseat wasn't exactly small. A bit of fabric from Cas' trench coat came off in his hand, along with a button that rolled across the upholstery before falling to the floor of the car. Dean had really done a number on him.

He remembered a couple of years ago, when he was about to say yes to Michael (which was pretty much suicide.) he'd written a goodbye note to Sam and Bobby, packing it in a box with his father's leather jacket, aong with the rest of his belongings. Then, Sam walked in, but he wasn't alone. Sure, Dean could outrun Sam all he wanted, Sam had been doing it his whole life, but he couldn't outrun an angel.

Cas was there, and he zapped them back to Bobby's I the blink of an eye. Everyone had been against what dean was planning. He'd seen every one of them get angry, but not like they had gotten then. Bobby even went so far to show Dean the gun he planned on using to take his own life, and with it the bullet that he'd planned to empty into his skull. The reason he hadn't, Bobby told Dean, was because he'd promised them that he wouldn't. Bobby begged him to stop, Sam too. When they did, Dean turned on bobby, saying that he wasn't his father. He regretted saying it to this day because he hadn't meant it. Bobby was more of a father to him than his own blood.

The whole time, Cas stood back. Later, Dean had used the angel's sympathies to his own advantage. He shattered a lamp in his room then hid, waiting for a reaction from the noise. When Cas came to check on him, he'd banished the angel and run off. He still intended to say yes to Michael, and he wasn't going to let any of them stop him.

That had been the final straw for Cas. When he ran into Dean later that night in an alleyway, he hadn't been quite so lenient. What he hadn't expected was exactly _how_ mad Cas would be. When they returned to the bunker, Dean had a broken nose, one loose tooth, and countless cuts to his face. He learned his lesson then, Cas was one scary son of a bitch when he was mad.

He looked over at Cas then, who had successfully managed to get his blood all over the seat of the impala. Funny enough, blood washed off the leather pretty well. Dean had learned that from experience. Cas sure had changed. As far as angels went, he was a lover now, not a fighter.

"You know, this was part of his plan." Sam piped up from the driver seat.

"What?" Dean said.

"He knew he wasn't going to win against you." Sam said, "He didn't want to fight, but he knew that he didn't really have a choice." His voice lowered in volume, "He just wanted to get through to you."

Dean didn't know how to respond to that.

"Why'd you let him go along with it?"

"Because I didn't know what else to do."

"But what about heaven?" Dean asked, "Who's calling the shots up there now?"

"I don't think much of anybody, actually." Sam replied, "But Metatron's in chains, so that's something, I guess."

"Why's he still alive?" Dean asked.

"I think Cas figured that killing him would be too easy," Sam said, "He's locked up where Gadreel was, from what I hear Gadreel didn't make it."

"Did he go rouge?" Dean said, looking over to see if Cas was awake. He wasn't. "He always seemed like he would."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Cas didn't tell me much about it, so I figure it didn't end well. Cas said that he did what needed to come when the time came."

"That's a shame," Dean said, "The last thing we need is another martyr hanging over our heads."

They found themselves on a dark stretch of road. Every now and then a streetlight would light the path, but they were far and between tonight. Dean fiddled with the pendant hanging around his neck.

"Where do you think Cas got this." Dean held up the amulet for a moment. Sam looked up then paused before replying.

"Oh," Sam said, "Must have fished it out of the trash that day. I don't blame him, I've wanted it back for years."

"Hm," Dean said.

"How's he holding up back there anyway?" Sam asked.

"From what I can tell, not all that well." He responded grimly, "It's all my fault Sam, I shouldn't have dragged you two into all of this."

"Don't say it like that."

"Why shouldn't I?" Dean replied quickly.

"Because it's not like that," Sam replied, "Taking the mark was your mistake, but it was mine too."

"Like hell it was." Dean muttered.

"Yeah, it _was_." Sam sounded exhausted and his shoulders were rigid.

"Give me one reason this whole mess is even remotely your fault Sam."

"I said that we weren't brother's anymore, Dean" Sam said, "I said it and I lied. I was lying the whole time." He paused a moment. "That's not the type of thing you can just take back."

"Yeah," Dean replied bitterly, "But I believe you."

"You're still my brother, Dean." Said Sam, "That's not changing anytime soon." Dean smiled.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Just then Cas gasped abruptly from the back seat. Sam swerved the car, nearly missing a street light. Dean caught a glimpse of Cas in the light. He shivered slightly, before his body was racked with a bout of coughing. He was covered in the blood that was seeping from the ragged wound in his side. Guilt hit Dean like an aluminum baseball bat. His trench coat was soaked, and only snatches of the original tan color showed though. It was brutal. Dean wished that he hadn't looked, and he wasn't exactly the squeamish type.

"Uh, Sam" He said cautiously, "Cas isn't lookin' to good right about now." Sam looked back and winced at the sight of him.

The car swerved slightly as Sam let go of the wheel to pull of his plaid button down. Underneath was another layer of flannel, pretty much identical to the first.

"You're wearing _two_ plaid shirts now?" Dean said.

"Shut up," Said Sam, tossing his shirt back to Dean.

Dean followed suit, pulling off his black leather jacket and then the plaid layer he'd been wearing beneath it. He pressed the two plaid shirts against Castiel's wound then tucked the jacket over Cas' shoulder's to stop him from shivering. It didn't work.

"Damn, feathers, you're not lookin to hot," He said to Cas, laughing nervously. He knew there wouldn't be a response, but the silence was still too heavy. It felt the same as every time his prayer's had gone unanswered. He listened for a moment and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard only two sets of breathing. Then he realized the silence was him. Thank God.

They sped through the back road at a dangerously fast pace. Maybe they could help him once they got to the bunker, Dean told himself, hoping it was true. He doubted that it really was, but at the time it didn't matter. It was a _lot_ of blood. Soon, they got closer to the bunker and Dean prayed to god (whether or not there was one, t was a rare thing to see a Winchester really praying.) He needed for Cas to be okay. He needed to know that he hadn't just killed his best friend.

They rushed inside of the bunker as fast as they could manage with Cas slung over their shoulders. Behind them was left a trail of rusty red blood as it seeped from the tips off his shredded trench coat. He'd need new clothes (and a hospital probably) assuming that he wasn't dead already. Dean felt no pulse, but he didn't have the liberty to check very carefully. Cas' eyes were clamped shut and his face was white as sun bleached bone. Dean walked a bit faster then, Sam trailing closely behind, propping up the angel's limp legs.

_If you're dead, _Dean thought,_ I'm going to kill you._

He almost laughed.

On the way into the bunker, Dean tripped and fell. Cas splayed out onto the ground like a ragdoll the second he was jerked from dean's grasp. That had to hurt, but he doubted Cas had felt much of anything. Dean found that he couldn't move. Not a muscle. Looking down, Dean saw the glaring red devil's trap spray painted on the inside stoop leading up to the bunkers front door. He'd painted it himself three days ago. Dean swore under his breath.

"Don't look Sammy." He said, rage creeping into his voice. Sam's eyes remained wide open. Dean continued anyway.

He focused hard for a split second on the cold gray pavement below him. He could feel his eyes turn black again and his mark burn viciously as he focused on the scarlet lines. A moment later he could feel them snap beneath his feet.

"Son of a bitch…" Sam said under his breath.

If they had any time to waste, they might have took a moment to notice that the things in the bunker had been moved around and candy wrappers littered the floor.

It wasn't until they'd tossed Cas haphazardly down on the leather that they even noticed the silhouette at the end of the hallway. It belonged to a man, a short man. In his hand was what looked like a grocery bag? The plastic was lumpy as its contents protruded through the sides. His honey brown hair was slicked back carelessly and it looked like he was smoking an unlit cigarette… or was that a lollipop?

Gabriel stepped into the light. There was a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth, and between them rested what looked like a tootsie pop, orange flavor.

He removed the Candy from his mouth and twirled it jovially between his fingertips.

"Hello Darlings, need a hand?"


	5. Chapter 5

Prodigal Son

Gabriel eyed them up and down, a goofy smile curling at the edge of his lips. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. He looked the same as he always had, exactly same short little vessel (well, not _that_ tiny, just next o the rest of them that's how it seemed) with the same cocky smile. They weren't sure what to think at this point. He was either a blessing or a curse. They hoped the former, but who could say? The Winchesters and Gabriel weren't exactly on the best of terms.

A couple of times, they'd thought that they'd killed him, but that was before they'd known that he was an angel, let alone an archangel. Archangel's were heaven's finest. They were some of only a small handful who still remembered their father personally. Ever since he'd skipped town, they called the shot's upstairs.

He was the last of the four, and by far the least terrifying, not that that said much, his brothers were some scary s.o.b.'s. To say the least, Lucifer took the cake for being pretty much the douchiest older brother you could ask for, with the possible exception of Michael or Raphael. Last they'd seen him he'd been shanked by the devil himself. It was terrible to watch, and they couldn't help but pity him. They were pretty damn sure he was dead from that pint. They'd seen the wing marks for themselves, and took it that the job was done. Here he was though, in the flesh.

"What's the matter, boys, you look like you've seen a ghost?" He said cheerfully, "If it helps, I brought lollipops for your troubles." He held up the bag and shook it a bit, making the plastic crinkle. They both furrowed their eyebrows in confusion. Gabriel tossed his old wrapper onto the floor and started on a second.

"You better get to talking, Gabe, because if it's really you, you have some serious explaining to do." Dean said, suspicion rising in his voice. He looked over at Cas, who was slumped motionlessly against the couch. Dean couldn't tell if he was breathing. He chose to believe that he was.

"I came to help, simple as that," replied Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. He fished around in the bag, pulling out three candies. He tossed one to Sam and Dean, who looked down suspiciously at them. Sam turned it over cautiously in his hands. A grin stretched across his face and he tossed one to Cas. It hit Cas square between the eyes.

"Really down for the count, that one," He said, motioning vaguely to Cas.

"How are you even alive?" Sam asked, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Easy there Samsquatch," Gabe said, "You can't take the trick out of the trickster, it's part of the job description."

Dean began to unwrap his lollipop and Sam shot him a look of disapproval. He tucked his won in his back pocket. Gabriel continued talking.

"My brothers are a lot of things, namely egotistic. It's something you have in common with them actually. I figured if I could pull the wool over their eyes one last time, I'd be off scot free. Naturally, I was right. You know what the best part is, actually?"

He didn't wait for a response from either of them "The wings, projecting things like that isn't easy. Mostly because I've never actually seen myself die. God only knows how many times I've faked it though."

Gabriel smiled "Luci gave himself too much credit, I don't go down easy."

"So we've noticed." Dean replied under his breath, popping the candy casually into his mouth.

The second it touched his lips it sizzled like a droplet of oil on a hot gas stove. His hand flew up to his mouth in pain and his eyes flickered black for a split second.

"Sorry, It was just insurance." Gabriel said nonchalantly.

"What the hell was that?!" Dean yelled.

"I put holy water in the candy." Gariel said.

"Why?!" Dean rubbed at his lips gently.

"The whole christo thing isn't really my style, and I just wanted to see if the rumors were true. That's not why I'm here though. I'm mostly just curious what the hell you did to my little brother." Gabriel said, looking over his shoulder at Castiel.

"It was an accident." Dean said, defensively reaching to his forearm.

"Sure thing ferrigno, its easily the most efficiently accidental stabbing I've ever witnessed oh, and about the wing print in the back of the bat mobile, that one's not washing out any time soon." He said, reaching down to touch Cas; forehead.

"We didn't kill him" Sam and Dean said in tandem.

"Sorry mutton-heads, but you did, at least the angel bit of him anyway."

Gabriel pressed his palm onto Cas' forehead and focused. Sam and Dean had never really seen the archangel in action before. He wasn't exactly the do-gooder type of angel. He was busy enough with trickster stuff, like cramming people in TV land and murdering people. Funny enough, he seemed to be busiest on Tuesdays. He drew in a deep breath and his amber eyes glowed blue.

"Sorry boys, I'm just not exactly mint condition at the moment." Gabriel commented, focusing harder.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"I'm de-murdering Dean's boyfriend." He said matter-of-factly, brushing the piece of candy off of his face. He released Cas then. "You're welcome, by the way. He should be up and running in a couple of hours. In the meantime, you should find him some new clothes, red isn't exactly his color."

Sam nodded and walked down the narrow hall of the bunker, turning into his room.

"If he fit into size moose, I'd have stopped at the tent store on my way here," Gabriel said, his voice peppered with sarcasm.

Sam stopped in the hallway for a minute to give Gabriel the bitch face of a lifetime before he continued into Dean's room. He came out with a pair of Dean's old jeans from when he was a teenager and an ACDC t-shirt. Gabriel snapped his fingers and suddenly Cas' ragged trench coat was replaced by Dean's t-shirt and jeans.

"These should be fine, kind of a morning-after vibe though, am I right Dean?" Gabe waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Bite me." Dean said, scowling.

"Dean you kinky bastard, I think I'll leave that to Cas." Gabriel said, clearly amused. Sam laughed a bit, under his breath, stopping abruptly when his brother shot him a stern look. He held his hands up innocently before he stated laughing again. Dean rolled his eyes.

"I am starving. What do you have to eat in this place, anyway? Besides liquor I mean." Gabriel said, looking back into his grocery bag. "Candy and holy water don't mix all that well to be honest."

"That's for damn sure," Dean said bitterly.

"I'll go see what we have in the freezer," Sam said.

His brother joined him a minute later. They really didn't have much in their refrigerator or the freezer. They had a couple of frozen burritos, two jars of peanut butter, one of jelly, some wonder bread, three or four cups of lambs blood, and a rancid tomato. Sam wrinkled his nose. They decided to make burritos and peanut butter sandwiches. Cas would love a good pb and j, they were pretty much his favorite. Gabriel poked his head in to make some kind of snarky comment to Dean about wanting extra salt in his food. In response, Dean chucked the container at his head. Sam and Dean ate their makeshift dinner while Gabriel polished off the remainder of the candy left in his bag. They left a couple of extra sandwiches in the fridge for Cas.

Castiel would be awake soon. Dean was terrified for what he'd say when he did. He'd be mad, or at least he should be. Dean didn't really know. For, God's sake, he'd stabbed him. Cas wouldd sure as hell be skeptical of Gabriel. He had every reason in the world to be. Metatron had faked bringing him back before, and it had been every bit as convincing then as it was now. The only difference was that Metatron was rotting in jail (thank God for that) and Gabe seemed pretty legit. Dean had seen it with his own two eyes (he was finding that his laser vision came in handy for situations like this) it really was the trickster.

However, they still weren't entirely sure why Gabe was there. Sure, he'd wanted to do his little brother a solid, but if that was it he would have split by then. Dean figured it was about heaven, from what he gathered, Gabe hadn't gone back since last they'd seen him and the locals might not be all too pleased to see him again.

He was jerked from his thoughts when Cas woke up. The first thing he saw was Gabriel, which, for obvious reasons, didn't g over to well with him.

"What?" He said groggily. Castiel was alone in the room then, but Dean could hear it the exact moment when Gabe walked in. The room fell dead silent.

"Why are _you _here Gabriel?" He asked. You could practically hear him tilt his head from the next room.

"Oh, I'm dead too aren't I?" He said dismally. _Oh Cas, always the optimist _Dean thought to himself.

"Sorry bucko, you're still kickin it." Gabriel replied.

"How? I should be dead right now" Cas asked.

"You're welcome." Gabe said.

"Right, I should thank you. But how are you alive Gabriel?" He continued. "Lucifer killed you."

"No actually, he didn't." Gabriel spoke confidently.

Then Dean walked in, followed in close proximity by Sam. Cas looked tired, but all of his wounds had cleared and he was alive. Cas' demeanor shifted when Dean entered the room. He stood up nervously.

"Dean." He said. He didn't want to hear the slight shake in his voice. "Why are you here?"

_Ouch_

"I'm sorry Cas." Dean said, ashamed.

"I forgive you Dean." Cas replied.

"That's just it, you shouldn't be able to." Dean said.

"And why is that?"

"I killed you, in cold blood." His voice rose, but he fought to contain it, not wanting to lose his composure. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"I don't care whether or not you deserve it, Dean. I forgive you. I knew full well what I was getting into, and I didn't care. We're family Dean, and you deserve to know that. I owe at least that to you, if nothing."

"I forgot my tissues. Cas, that's sweet and all, but we need to talk. Its heaven." Gabriel said. "Dean, take your moose, Cas and I need a one on one."

"Yeah, of course" Dean replied. He walked back into the kitchen. He stuffed a bit of burrito into his mouth, wincing at the burn. Salt, right.

"Hate to break it to you, but your human now, and that puts you out of the question for a leadership position."

"I know." Castiel said.

"I hate to say you don't have many choices right about now." Gabriel said "Metatron did get one thing right in that little skit of his. It's time I stopped running, stepped up. To be honest, right now, we only have a handful of options."

The first thing they had to worry about was Dean. They couldn't handle him going rogue a second time. Gabriel proposed a plan then. Sam could \ Besides, they could cure Dean in the process. It was a long shot whether or not the blood would work, given the mark of Cain could work as a binding agent, but there was still a fair chance. More important than hell though was heaven.

Gabriel spelled it out realistically for Cas. The first option that they had was for Gabriel to take over the ruling position. This seemed simple enough, but there were conditions.

First off, Gabriel said that he'd want complete control over Metatron's punishment. He warned that he might not be quite as lenient as Cas had been. When Cas asked about his plans for Metatron Gabriel said that he'd pop the scribe in a cage of his own, and unlike Michael, he'd throw away the key. It was a drawback, but in comparison, he could stay mortal and live out his life alongside the Winchester brothers. That was what he wanted, but he wasn't sure if his own happiness was worth the blind trust he'd have to place in Gabriel. He just wasn't sure he had it in him.

While he pondered it, Dean came in, looking Bashful. He brought peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Cas was starving. The bread was stale and the peanut butter was oily, but it was perfect. Gabriel rolled his eyes and made a remark Castiel didn't quite understand, something about going back to the kitchen. Dean obliged, but not without a few choice words and the use of a particularly rude gesture.

They got back to talking about their options. Second, there was the option of the two of them rung heaven together, as brothers. This seemed like a good plan at first until you got to the technicalities. In order for Cas to regain any semblance of grace, he'd have to interrogate Metatron on where his had ended up. It could be gone. If it was, he'd punish Metatron by taking his, and the two of them could find a way to bind it to him if possible, it seemed fairly likely that it wasn't.

The last option was perhaps the most striking, catching Cas off guard completely. Gabriel was willing to give up his grace for Cas. He would be an archangel. Castiel could be an arch angel. He knew that if he took this option, he could never see Sam and Dean again.

Also, he didn't know if Jimmy's body could take it. It was a stretch; he'd barely lasted a second when he had taken on all of the leviathans. Having them inside of him was a nightmare. He could feel his body cracking under the pressure. Would this be any different? Would it be worth it?

Gabriel said one last thing then,

"I don't give a rat's ass what choice you pick Cas, just make damn sure it's the right one." And then he was gone, and Cas was alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Heaven and Hell**

Once Gabriel left, Cas went to talk to the Winchester brothers about what they were planning to do about Dean's situation.

They were both in the kitchen. Sam was polishing off one of the last frozen burritos and Dean was looking around to see what in the pantry had the least salt, grimacing at the rotten tomato at the bottom of the refrigerator.

"Hello Dean, Sam," He said.

"Hey Cas, how you holding up?" Sam said casually.

"I'm doing well Sam, though I appear to be stuck as a human, at least for the time being." The angel said, "We need to talk."

"What about?" asked Dean.

"About you." Cas said bluntly, "Your situation doesn't seem to be improving, and we need to find a solution."

To be fair, Cas knew he was in a bit of a fix himself. Humanity was difficult to live with. Cas decided that he would put off his decision about heaven. He needed to know that Dean would be okay before he could even think to do anything about it. Still, Castiel knew that he was the one who had to make a decision. The last thing he wanted was another civil war upstairs. He had seen far too many of them. Dean came first though. Dean was family, more so than his fellow angels had ever been.

"And what about you Cas?" Dean said, cocking one eyebrow "I've got to say, being a human isn't exactly ideal when you're born an angel."

"Neither is being a Demon," said Castiel, "You're top priority at the moment." He looked at the counter, where the jar's of peanut butter and jelly sat dormant, "I can bear it for a while, I think it's fair to say that humanity is not without its perks."

"Can't exactly say you're wrong about that," Dean replied with a slight smirk.

"Whatever we decide to do, I have Metatron in my custody in heaven. We can interrogate him, see what he knows." Cas said "He may be able to help."

"Help, from Metatron?" Said Sam, suspicion creeping into his voice, "Hate to say, but he might not exactly be the most reliable source."

"He might be our best bet," Dean said. "Plus, I know that I wouldn't be entirely against using some colorful," He cleared his throat, "_interrogation _method's on him."

"If you mean torture, than no." Castiel replied, "I won't be resorting to that, not from you."

Suddenly, Gabriel strutted into the room. "You won't have to, that sorry son of a bitch needs to get what's coming to him." He drew an angel blade from the pocket on the inside of his jacket, "I plan to deliver."

Both of the Winchesters looked at Cas. He couldn't say that he necessarily disagreed with Gabriel. Metatron deserved to be punished. Who was he to say how severely?

Maybe, if they got the information that they needed from him, his punishment could be lessened. He doubted it; Metatron didn't really seem the type to give his adversaries what they wanted.

"He might be able to help us Dean." Castiel said, "Both of us, with no prophet, he's the only way we could understand what's happening to you. Also, he's the one who took my grace; maybe he can get it back again."

All four of them agreed that getting what they could out of Metatron would be the best way for them to begin to get a all of this sorted out. Still none of them were entirely sure whether or not they could find a way to cure Dean. If Sam did it, the third trial would be complete. It would lock the gates of hell. This was a big bonus, but if they went with that plan, Sam would die. Castiel wanted as few casualties as possible. The whole situation was unclear.

Cas soon found that he couldn't get into heaven, not alone. He was human, he needed either to die or be escorted by an angel. The latter seemed a lot better, to be honest.

Dying, at least as far as he had experienced it, was not ideal. Still, he'd only end up in a personal heaven. If he ended up there, Cas thought, he might not wasn't to leave. He decided then that Gabriel would have to take him. He didn't want to pray to his followers. He didn't need any favors from them.

The expedition wasn't difficult. Gabriel knew every back way into heaven that there ever was. Cas hadn't known any of them.

"I came back a couple times," Gabriel explained, "Mostly just to steal things with Balthazar."

Once they were up there, Cas met with the rest of the angels. Needless to say, the others were shocked to see that Gabriel was alive. Some were angry that he hadn't come sooner, but it soon died down.

Strange enough, when Gabriel was around them, he didn't seem like just any other angel. There was an air of authority to him. He ruled with a quiet leadership and they respected him for it. It wasn't that they hadn't respected Castiel, they had, but Gabriel was an archangel. He was born to lead them.

Hannah seemed happy that they were there. Castiel was proud of her. She had led the angels in his absence, and hadn't done a bad job of it either. He thanked her sincerely, and Gabriel made some sort of snide remark that he assumed meant something along the lines of "thanks." They both explained that there was no set leader. She led them then into the prison.

They went through the gardens, which were lush with the rich colors of every plant to ever live. It was beautiful. The cells were tucked away in a deep part of heaven. Cas had been there only once. It wasn't long ago, he had been a prisoner then. He could feel the energy drain from him as they distanced themselves from the core of heaven.

Adjacent to the Cells were the torture chambers. Cas cringed just thinking about it. It had been the place in which Naomi had taught him to kill. Cas had only ever wanted peace. She'd driven him to insanity, forcing him to kill over and over, to dig that same blade into that same man until it was second nature to him. It wasn't just training, it wasn't just brainwashing. It was torture in its purest form. He still couldn't shake the images.

This was also the place in which Metatron had stolen his grace for his own sick purposes. All of the angels had fallen because of Castiel's grace, and now he wanted it back. They grew closer to the entrance and Gabriel pulled Cas over to the side of the Narrow hallway.

Once they grew closer to the prison, Gabriel stopped and pulled Cas over to the side of the hallway.

"Listen, Cas," He said, "Whether or not you want me ruling it up here doesn't matter right now. You're merciful, and that's great, but if we don't get him talking pretty quickly, I'm not going to be." Gabriel motioned to the entrance, "What he did, I ought to string him up by his patchy little neck beard. The only reason I'm not killing him is because it would be too easy."

Cas understood.

"You're my brother, and that means that I need you to trust me, but it also means that if shit hits the fan, I'm going to need you to get out of the way. Got it hot shot?" Gabriel said. Cas nodded in response and they entered the room.

The cell that Gadreel had blown out the day he died had been repaired. The memories still pained him. He could still see Gadreel's face, twisted in pain and rage as he rammed the blade into the sigil carved into the curve his stomach. He could remember his last words, still echoing in his head.

_When they see my name, perhaps I won't just be the one who let the serpent in, Perhaps I'll be known as one of the men who gave heaven a second chance._

Gadreel was a fallen, broken, and misled angel. All he wanted to do was what was right. In the end, he found it. Cas chose not to look back once he'd passed it. Some things are better left in the past.

Gabriel struck up a conversation, "So, brother, it's time we talked regime change, any decisions yet."

"No, not really," Cas said bluntly

"Well, we should probably get this sorted before we do much of anything." He replied, "You're right about that."

"You'd be a great leader Gabriel," Cas said, "I just can't say yet whether or not I trust you to do it alone."

"I don't blame you," Said Gabriel, "How about this, once we clean up this hot mess, we talk?"

"That would be ideal, yes." Cas replied.

"Sounds good," He said, quickening his stride, "We're here."

Gabriel strutted up to what he assumed was Metatron's cell. Cas followed and once it came into view he could see that it was. Gabriel rattled the bars.

"Hey, Metadouche."

"Gabriel?" He asked, "How are _you_ alive? I was pretty sure that your brother did you in,"

"You'd have liked that wouldn't you?" Gabriel spat coldly.

"Yes, actually, I would have." Metatron replied. He looked over at Cas and scowled. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be burying that Winchester boy?"

Cas was silent. He remembered what Sam had told him. Metatron had killed Dean in cold blood. Cas could feel rage boiling in the pit of his stomach at the memory of his words. Metatron had taunted Castiel, and every word had been true. Killing Dean was the accomplishment of a lifetime for scum like him, and look on his adversaries face as he announced it was his prize. Castiel had lost everything he'd ever had for the sake of Dean Winchester and he would gladly have done it a thousand times over. He did not regret that, not now, not ever.

Did Metatron know what he had done? Did he know that he had turned the righteous man into a knight of hell?

"I'm assuming you're here for answers," Metatron said.

"What did you do with my grace?" Asked Cas desperately.

"Easy there tiger, I never said I'd give you answers." Metatron said. It was obvious that he thought little of Castiel. He knew that Cas would always have mercy, it was his nature. What he didn't realize was that Gabriel didn't share this trait.

Gabe turned to Cas and his voice dropped to a whisper, so Metatron wouldn't hear him. To be honest, it terrified Cas. "Here's the part where I need you to trust me, just for a bit, okay?" Cas nodded and Gabriel continued.

"I'm giving you two questions, and ten seconds to answer back, you got it?" Gabriel said harshly, "One. Where are you stashing his Grace? And two, How do you cure a knight of hell?"

"Oh? So the rumors were true, about the mark?" He asked, "I mean, I knew I killed the bastard, but this! This is better."

Gabriel turned to Cas, "Sorry"

And then another set of footsteps echoed done the jail hall. Cas whirled around with the speed of a cat that had just had its tail stepped on by a man in steel toed boots. Strutting down the hall was Crowley. Now, it was known to may that Crowley was one bad son of a bitch. He was the king of hell for God's sake, but hell was just a word. Crowley could make you beg for mercy in thirty seconds flat, and make you spill your deepest darkest secrets in a minute.

Gabriel pulled his angel blade from his coat pocket and handed it to Crowley, who looked at it with the type of adoration one would typically give to a firstborn child.

"Thank you love, this will do nicely."

He then opened the cell doors and Crowley stepped in, closing the door behind him. Crowley smiled as he locked himself in.

Gabriel grabbed Cas' arm and pulled him down the hallway. "I'm sorry, but you do not want to watch this." They could hear screams all the way back to the angel headquarters.

Cas wasn't happy, "You called Crowley?" He yelled.

"Listen Cas, it was him or Dean. Which would you have picked?" Gabriel replied "I needed information, not filleted angel. Crowley was the man for the Job."

He had a point. Crowley didn't mind getting his hands dirty, and Cas didn't want Dean to use the mark. He couldn't say it was a bad plan. Sure, it was reckless, but that was just Gabriel. Castiel knew that they had a job to get done, and that this was probably the way to do it. He just wished he'd known about it first. Gabriel checked his watch carefully.

"He should be done in about Fifteen minutes, who's for poker" Gabriel said, and they played, waiting.

When they went to heaven the second time, all four of them went together. Sam and Cas walked behind their brothers, waiting to see what had happened. They made their way down to the prison. Crowley was leaning casually against the bars inspecting his nails. He practically skipped over to them.

First thing, he addressed Castiel, "Just between us girls, I miss the trench coat," Cas scowled, "Also, Metatron left a message. He says he hid your grace in Heaven. Not just heaven central either, someone's personal heaven. Its going to be hell to find it." He smiled and patted Cas' arm, "Godspeed."

He turned then to Dean, "The cure is basically the third trial, but angel blood, not human" He said confidently, "Also, I left Metatron semi-conscious if you're looking for your torture fix."

Sam stopped him as he turned to strut away, "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

Crowley raised one eyebrow, "You, don't."


	7. Chapter 7

Saving Grace

Crowley sauntered out of the prison like a black cat down a dark alley. His shoes squeaked slightly, like they were wet. It took a moment to see why. His footprints were laced with red. It was blood. The floor around Metatron's cell was slick with the stuff. A smile crossed Dean's lips. The second Cas spotted it he stopped smiling. Still, it made him happy to know that the bastard finally got what was coming to him.

Gabriel walked up to the cell confidently. He didn't even flinch when the blood splashed beneath his feet, staining his cowboy boots. It looked like he had finally gotten down the Dr. Sexy look.

"So, you're talking now?" Gabriel said innocently. Metatron spat at his feet. "Really? These shoes are new."

Cas walked stiffly over to the Cell, "Where did you hide my grace, Metatron?"

Metatron wiped blood from his mouth and spoke for the first time. "You heard the demon scum; it's in heaven, the individual heaven of one human, an important one. The grace will be hidden in one object and once you touch it, it will be yours again. It's simple enough, if you can find it. Get the grace, heal the kid, Got it? "

Gabriel smirked and jabbed a finger in Metatron's face. "I'll have you know that if you're lying, Crowley's only our third worst interrogation method. Next time you step an inch out of line, guess what hot shot? It's my turn."

"I'll do my best to behave." Metatron said sarcastically.

"Good thing," Dean said, "Because once Gabe's done, I'm gonnna want a piece of you."

Metatron gulped audibly at that point. Dean winked at him and his eyes flashed black as he smiled.

They left Metatron to stew in his own juices then. Dean knew that if he got his hands on Metatron, he might actually be able to control himself for the first time since he got the mark of Cain. Yeah, he'd control himself. He'd take it nice and slow, savor the sounds he could elicit from the scribe like a good piece of pie at a cheap small town diner. There was nothing quite like it.

Dean had to admit, he liked Gabriel's style. He always had. Gabriel wasn't a clean cut type angel, the kind that would follow anything tough enough to call itself god. He wasn't a gentle angel either, like Cas, who preferred mercy by any means he could have it. Cas was a good guy, but Gabriel, he was a born leader. He didn't take shit from anybody. Dean was just starting to get that.

"We're still missing one piece," Sam said, "Who's heaven is it in? I mean there are around fifteen dead people for every one living. That's not a small number, and we need to find just one."

"How do you even know that?" Asked Dean, "As much as your nerd facts come in handy, sometimes it's just odd."

"Shut up, man" Sam said.

Dean shrugged "So how are we going to swing it? That is a lot of dead people to sort through with no leads."

"We might not have to," Cas said, "There's been word of a human running freelance around heaven." He walked a bit faster, "So far he hasn't seemed to be much of a problem; he isn't technically doing anything unethical or wrong. Still, the angel's have been keeping tabs on him."

Sam looked over at Dean, "Ash. Dean, its ash,"

"Ash, yes that was his name. You know him?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "He was an old friend of ours, real genius."

Sam continued, "Last time we were up in heaven we ran into him, he helped us get to the Garden. He should be able to help us actually."

"We have been keeping track of him since he began jumping heavens. If you think he can help, let's go find him.

They went into the central hub of heaven. Cas greeted every angel warmly as they passed. Gabriel smiled stiffly at most of them and waggled his eyebrows as those with attractive female vessels. He was the same Gabe he's always been.

Little to none of them gave Sam a passing glance, and if they did, it was only one of vague discomfort. Dean envied the lack of attention that Sam was gathering. He was the vessel of Satan himself, for God's sake. Still, the crowd's split as Dean passed, like Moses' staff had parted the red sea.

He was a demon in heaven, which alone was enough to set him apart. It didn't help that he had been the righteous man. It made Sam and Cas notably uncomfortable. Gabe seemed not to care. Being as self centered a he was, he really didn't notice much other than himself.

When they came to the familiar office setting where most of Cas' familiars worth, he began asking around to see who could help them with their predicament.

Hannah hailed for an Angel named Barachiel and his partner Ezra. They had been assigned to watch over Ash, making sure that he stayed in line. The two of them were as stiff as angels come, which says something. Neither Sam nor Dean could understand a word they said. It was an odd combination of old English and Bible and Torah references of all kinds. Cas kept up with the vernacular fairly well.

It only took them a matter of minutes to track Ash. He was in the heaven of a girl named Janie Adams. Once they got there, it looked like a school Gym, cheaply decorated for a dance. It was the type of setting that Sam was more acquainted with. Dean was more familiar with the janitor' closets or car backseats that went hand in hand with such events. Ash was on the far side of the gym, slow dancing with a girl who looked about seventeen, gorgeous young blonde thing, and very drunk.

He turned around then, giving them both a big smile. "Sam? Dean? Don't ell me. You two must be dead….again. Really?" He whirled around the blonde and continued, "What was it this time?"

"Listen, Ash, we need your help." Sam said seriously.

"Sure thing, bro." he smiled at the blonde again, "This is Janie, she was killed in a car crash three days after we went to prom together." He said bluntly, "This is her heaven. What can I do you for?"

Dean spoke then, with a note of authority to his voice. "We need to find Cas' grace. It's here in heaven somewhere." He said.

"Hm. That's a new one. So, you two aren't dead?" He asked nonchalantly.

"God, I wish," Said Dean under his breath.

"No. We're not." Sam said.

"Alright. Let's do this. You sure that what your looking is on this tier of heaven?" Ash replied. "There are three tiers, maybe four. One is angel territory, one is Eden, and one is human heavens. The fourth is what I've been trying to figure out. Might be some kind of angel afterlife. I don't really know."

"I'm pretty sure it's a human heaven," Said Sam.

"Any Idea's on who it might be?" Asked Ash, "because there are a hell of a lot of people up here."

"There is no way to be sure, but I doubt that it will be a stranger." Castel stated.

"Hold up," Ash replied, "You're an angel, both of you two."

"How could _you_ tell bucko," said Gabriel, his posture stiffening.

It certainly was a good question. How did he manage to skip across heaven the way he did. Sure, Ash was a smart kid, but there were plenty of dead people smarter than him up here. What made him so special?

He _was_ human, right? Of course he was, he had to be. Otherwise he'd be in purgatory. Castiel and Gabriel both looked extremely confused at this point. Cas' head was tilted to the side and his eyes were squinted.

"Would you mind If I tried something, Ash?" Gabriel said. "It'll hurt like a bitch, but I can take the edge off."

"Try me," said Ash.

"Alright," Said Gabriel, "Bite your sleeve."

He then reached his arm into Ash's abdomen. There was light that formed around his outstretched forearm. He was reading Ash like a book in the way only an angel could. Then he pulled out his hand.

"Hot damn, kid" Gabriel Said. Ash groaned and put a hand to his stomach.

"What is it," he said, out of breath,

"To be honest, I'm not sure what you are," Gabriel said, shrugging, "One of Azazel kids maybe, but the dates don't add up. That or you are hella psychic. Did you know both of your parent's? What were there names?"

"My Mom's name was Kelly. I guess never knew my Dad."

Gabriel stopped in his tracks. He looked deep in thought for a moment, counting under his breath and o his fingers.

"How old are you anyway, kid?" he asked?

"I was born 1977" Gabriel did the math.

"How did your mother describe your father? I mean, if she did." He said,

"Always said he was some foreign asshole in a v-neck," Ash said, confusion knotting up his face.

Gabriel sighed audibly, "Balthazar you sly dog," He said and laughed, "Way to go and get some."

"Balthazar?" Cas asked, "What about Balthazar?"

Gabriel laughed some more and motioned to Ash, "He's a nephilim, Balthazar's son."

Sam and Dean looked confused. Castiel explained that a nephilim is the child of a human and an angel. This one had bent e product of Balthazar. God only knew how many of them were his, he was a promiscuous little cherub. Him and Gabriel had been the fathers of most of them, though they weren't the only ones getting it on with humans. As far as nephilims went, there weren't very many left anymore. Metatron killed the last one while performing the spell he used to make all of the angels fall. Her name had been Jane. She was a waitress. Cas hadn't known who her angel parent was.

Nephilims were highly illegal as far as heaven was concerned, but the punishment for creating one was usually given to the parent, not the child. It usually came in the form of an angel blade.

"So, let me get this straight, I'm _half _angel?"

"Looks like," replied Gabriel with a shrug, "At least that's my best bet. Plus, your absent father just so happens to fit the profile of heaven's sluttiest angel. His name is Balthazar, by the way, your Dad."

"Balthazar" Ash mouthed, "Hm."

"Well, that's nice to know and all," Dean interjected, "But we need to get going on finding Cas' grace."

"Right," Ash said, nodding his mullet-adorned head, "Well, what do we know about Metatron right now? What's he like?"

"Hard core douche," Said Dean.

"Megalomaniacal and hateful," Said Cas.

"He's one nasty chunk of neck beard. " Added Gabriel.

"He's terrible," Agreed Sam.

"So, what I'm thinking that if he were to hide it anywhere, he'd hide it where it hurts. He'd want t to be in a place where you might not want to go, or a place where you couldn't. It would be a place that would make you feel guilt. Is that sounding about right?"

They all nodded.

"Okay, now Gabriel, I'm going to need for you to go back to angel head quarters and look for any flux in energy."

"Got it." Gabriel said, snapping his fingers. He was gone then, into thin air.

"I have a Idea, but ya'll aren't going to like it." Ash added reluctantly.

"What is it?" Asked Sam.

"Think back to one person, the first one who comes to mind. It has to be someone you let down, someone here." Said Ash.

"Well, your right about me not liking it." Muttered Dean. Sam and Cas both nodded.

"Well, it's our best bet at this point." Ash said dismally. "Castiel, why don't you go first, It's your grace we're looking for."

He shifted uncomfortably from his right to left foot, "Bobby Singer, I brought the monster that killed him to earth. His blood is on my hands."

Ash asked them all to focus hard on every memory they had of him. The, their surroundings changed in a flash. They went from the high school Gymnasium to the front of a church. It looked like springtime. Flowers were just beginning to poke their heads from wet the soil and the sun's rays were gentle and butter yellow. Beautiful women sashayed in and out of the church. They wore dresses in the colors of tulips and laughed at everything and nothing at all.

This really was Heaven.

Then they saw Bobby. He was at least twenty years younger than the last time they had seen him. His beard had yet to grow in and without it he was barely recognizable. He saw them too and began to walk over. He tugged with him a young blonde woman. Sam and dean recognized her as his wife, Karen. Poor bobby, he'd had to kill her twice.

"Sam, Dean? Ash? What are you boys doing here?"

"Hey Bobby," Sam said. He was happy to see Bobby; he'd missed the surly old hunter.

"If y'all are dead, I'm going to kill you." He scowled.

"We're not Dead, Bobby. We're just looking for something." Sam continued.

Karen stood on her tip toes and Gave Bobby's now beardless cheek a kiss. She then pranced off to join the other women.

"What for?" he asked.

"Cas' grace, its hidden somewhere in heaven. We need to find it so we can cure Dean." Once the words slipped from Sam's mouth he regretted them. Dean's gaze fell to the ground in guilt.

"Cure Dean?" Bobby asked "Cure him of what?" He looked at the both of them with a concerned expression "What'd you idjits get into this time?"

In answer to his question Dean flickered his eyes black. He stood back then, waiting for Bobby's reaction, expecting a strike across the face. It didn't come. Instead, Bobby pulled him into a tight hug. After a moment he pulled away.

"If your daddy could crawl his ass out of hell, you can beat this. You're twice the man he ever was."

Dean didn't respond. He just nodded weakly.

Ash turned to Cas then and spoke, "Do you feel anything?" he asked. "If its here, I think you would by now."

"No. I don't feel anything." He replied.

"You sure?" Ash asked.

They decided then that t wasn't there, and that they would continue onto the next heaven. Ash decided that was Sam's turn. When he asked Sam who he had thought of Sam just lowered his head.

"Jessica. Her name was Jessica Moore." Sam whispered. They said their goodbyes to Bobby and made their way to the second heaven.

What followed was one of the saddest things any of them had witnessed. They ended up on a near empty street in California. There was a blonde woman in a white dress and navy jacket standing at the edge of the street. Her hair was the color of spun gold. It was wavy as the ocean and caught the light in a way that could only be described as divine. Then she turned around. God, she was beautiful. Sam was paralyzed. She walked towards them curiously. You could have pinpointed the exact moment when she recognized Sam.

Cas could tell that his grace wasn't here. In that moment he didn't care. He couldn't interrupt broke into a run. Sam couldn't even pick up his feet.

She stopped in front of him to look at his face. It was so different than it had been ten years ago, yet still so similar. She watched as he choked back tears. "Sam?"

He paused, searching for words. "Oh my God. Jessica." He smiled wider than he had in years. "Jess. You are so beautiful."

She tossed back her head and laughed, sending strands of her yellow hair flying.

"Is it really you Sam. I've seen you so many times. This can't be a memory, this is new."

"It's really me." He said.

"God, I've missed you." She said, fishing around in the pocket of her Jacket, "I've been waiting for you."

"I can't stay long." He said.

"That's okay," She said with a smile, "I have something for you, before you go."

He nodded and she pressed a piece of paper into his hands. Just then, Gabriel popped out of nowhere and began talking frantically to Cas.

"I have to go. I love you, always have." Sam said.

She smiled, "I'll be right here when its time Sam, remember that."

He looked at the paper in his hands. It was a Polaroid photograph. She had loved taking these with her camera. He's had so many of them, but all of tem had been lost in the fire. He couldn't remember the day when this one had been taken. It was before everything went to hell, before the fire that took her away from him. In the photograph were the two of them. Their eyes held the stars and their smiles held the sun. It was beautiful. He looked back at her one last time before turning to see what was happening. She smiled and he returned it.

Then he heard what Gabriel was saying and his blood ran cold. Sam could only make out snippets of the words, but he got the picture. Gabe was speaking so fast, he hadn't caught his words before. He had found Cas' grace.

"I found the heaven we've been looking for. It's Mary and John Winchester."


	8. Chapter 8

Hey Jude

When Dean heard the heaven in where Cas' grace was hidden his blood went cold. His parents heaven, both of them. He liked to think he knew his mother, but the truth was, he'd only known her for the first four years of his life. All of his memories of her were faded childhood memories, or from the times Cas had Brought him back to the past. Sure, she'd loved him when he was still her son. Was he still her son, even now with what he'd become? How could anyone love a monster?

She was a hunter, one member of the famous Campbell family. They were a long line of hard core hunters. Being a stone-cold bad-ass seemed to run in that side of the family. Sam and Dean had met some of the Campbells, and they lived up to their reputation. The only problem with that was when they went dark side. Sam and Dean had to take them out. His mother hadn't wanted that for her family. She'd wanted out, and she'd wanted it bad. In the end, she had gotten out. It hadn't lasted, she had old Yellow Eyes on her heels, and she couldn't run forever. The second that Dean learned these things he thought of Sam. He'd lost everything because of the job and so had she. She'd never wanted the hunting life for her family, but as fate would have it, that's exactly what happened.

_Now look at us. _Though Dean bitterly.

His brother had been the boy with the demon blood, Lucifer's vessel, the boy king. Dean hadn't gotten it. Until a couple of years ago, he'd just been Dean, daddy's good little soldier. He hadn't minded that, it was better to be nothing than to be damned. At first he'd been blessed, the Michael Sword. All of that was gone now.

He was the assigned vessel of the Angel equivalent of Chuck Norris, Michael. He was one bad ass mother. Then he'd learned the implications of it, he'd have to kill Sam. He'd been raised to protect his brother, and that was all his life had been up until that point.

He knew he couldn't do it. They could take their angel blessing and cram it up their feathery little asses because he didn't want it if he couldn't have Sam. They were brothers. Nothing could erase that.

It was irony in its purest form, actually. It would have been funny, but it wasn't. The righteous man, armed with blessing of the angels had fallen to the scum of the earth.

Sam didn't look all too keen to see their parents either. He understood why. John had been selfish; he'd never given Sam a chance at a childhood. He killed Sam's dreams for the sake of his own. Still, he found a way to called it justice. All Sam had wanted was to go to school, find a girl, settle down and live some kind of apple pie life. Dean could respect that. He'd wanted out since he was fourteen years old but he knew that he was nothing but his father's pawn. He'd never felt like he was worth more than that anyways. Dean had been proud of Sam for being brave enough, but he didn't want for Sam to leave him alone. He'd been mad when he did, and they didn't speak for a long time. Dean wasn't even sure how long it was, all he knew was that it was too long. His father was barely the same man at all. Sam was all he had left of his old life, the life he'd had before it all went to hell.

Dean was always glad to see his mother. She was a lovely woman, sweet as syrup and tough as nails all packed into one. His father was a different story though. Their father was a mean, drunk, hard ass of a man. When his father was mad, you could expect a hell of a lot more than a stern talking-to. If you didn't end up his punching bag, you might end up wishing that you were. Sam and Dean both knew that. Dean never would have let his father lay a finger on Sammy, but Dean got more than his share. They'd both hated it.

It had been so long since either of them had seen their parents. What did they know? Did they get some sort of newsletter up in heaven, or did they just stay in that dreamy heavenly state. If they knew any of what had happened to their kids, it might not be heaven, for them. It'd seem more like hell. They'd been through at least three possible apocalypses. They'd averted every last one very narrowly. Apocalypse isn't a word that should have a plural, but thanks to the Winchesters, it did. It was a good thing too.

Just then they could feel themselves shift from the sunny California street to a new location. It was a new heaven. The sky shifted slightly in hue. It went from a soft powdery shade to an alarmingly sharp shade of electric blue. Ash tapped out then, mumbling something about getting back to his own heaven. Once he'd left, Dean looked carefully around.

_Son of a bitch. _Though Dean.

He knew that this was Mary's memory, because it was his too. He knew it all too well. He reached over and shook Sam by the shoulder.

"Sam. Do you remember this?" He looked at Sam, whose eyes were fixed on some point in the distance. "You've got to remember this, Sammy."

"No…" Sam said, confusion clear in his voice, "No, I don't remember. Dean, where are we?"

Dean knew where they were. They were home. He could see the playground. Both swings were intact. Neither was occupied. The paint was still fresh on the metal structure. He'd only been here a couple of days ago. Then, it had been the single most pathetic thing he'd seen in years. It looked surreal now, like he's jumped back n time. He wished that he had. The swings were a dark forest green and the straight metal slide was yellow like a canary with sharp black scuff marks at the bottom. Dean's smile stretched wide. He would have been glad to call this heaven.

Just then his smile disappeared. He could see them now. A small family with two children walked carelessly down the road. It was just as it had been all those years ago, with only one slight detail different. There were four people, not three. In Dean's memory, it was only the three of them, his mother, Sammy, and himself. This time, a man joined them. Dean could feel his shoulder's tense.

John Winchester.

It was their father. He looked just as he had the last time they had seen him. He wore a blue button down over a faded forest green t-shirt. He had a crop of stubble on his jaw and where there usually was an alcohol induced grimace, a smile lit up his face. His arm was wrapped carelessly over Mary's shoulder. He didn't look like himself. Maybe it was because he looked happy, actually happy, for the first time in years.

The sight tugged at the brother's hearts. Cas kept a straight face, just as usual, but even he could see that there was a problem. And then it dawned on them. There was a reason Metatron had chosen this heaven to hide Castiel's grace from them. This heaven would be difficult to maneuver for the Winchesters. Metatron knew that they were his weakness, and that he would refuse to separate himself from them. They still had to find the one thing that held it. It would be buried beneath a sea of memories. Castiel prayed to his father that the brothers would not be pulled under. If any one of them touched it, the grace would be restored. Cas hoped it would be him. He couldn't do this alone, but he knew that he might have to.

Mary spotted them then, the boys. She furrowed her brows and tilted her head. Sam's stomach sank as she pointed at them. All of a sudden the young Dean and Sam disappeared from their view. It was only them now, the Winchesters and their angel.

John quickened his pace and Sam shrank back. Mary followed in his steps, confusion clouding her gaze. As Dean met his father's gaze he straightened up, like a soldier readying for inspection. He pulled down his sleeve self consciously to cover the mark from his father's gaze. John smiled wider then and picked up his pace. Neither of the brother's went to meet him.

"Sam!" He cried, "Dean!" John sounded genuinely happy.

"Dad," Sam said with slightly less enthusiasm than his father had displayed. He knew that John wouldn't approve of their predicament, and he knew that soon he'd find out.

Last time they had seen their father, Sam's veins had pumped Demon blood. John had the nerve to tell his Dean, on his deathbed no less, that if the time came Dean would have to kill his own brother. Now, Sam's blood was pure as freshly-fallen snow in December, and Dean was the violated one. His blood didn't pump at all anymore. He didn't belong in heaven, he belonged in hell. God, it had seen far to long since they'd seen their father. Their father, John Winchester, the demon killing fiend that he was now had one for a son.

Before they could stop him John pulled his sons into a hug.

"Hey, Dad," Said Dean. Castiel started to say something but Sam shot him a disproving look. For once, he took the hint.

"How long has it been boys, you know, since Azazel?" Asked their father.

"God," Said Sam "That had to have been at least seven years ago." He laughed under his breath, "It seems like longer."

"There I word that while Lucifer first raised that he was resurrected, but he is believed to be dead now." Castiel said matter-of-factly.

John raised one eyebrow and Mary pursed her lips, "Who is he?" John asked coldly.

"I'm an angel of the Lord." Replied Cas "My name is Castiel. You are Mary, and John, It's good to finally meet you."

Mary looked suspicious, but then held out her hand to shake his and smiled. "Nice to meet you Cas." She said kindly.

"It's Castiel," he reminded her.

"No, it's just Cas," Corrected Dean with a winning smile at the angel. He then turned timidly to his mother, who was now smiling also. He slow sweet smile reminded Cas of Sam's actually. Both smiles were gentle, warm, and full of kindness.

Cas noticed for the first time how beautiful she was. She looked a lot like her son's actually. Her wide green eyes were the same soft and sparking green of Dean's. They looked like a gemstone, peridot and the way they shined when she smiled. Her smile was like Sam's. It was pearly white, dimpled on the sides, and stretched clear across her face. It gave Castiel an urge to make her happy, just so he could see it again.

"Why are you boy's here?" She asked, "You can't be dead." A lump formed in dean's throat. He grabbed Cas' forearm nervously. He wanted to leave now.

"No, actually, not yet anyways." Sam responded anxiously.

"Then what're you doing up here?" Asked John.

"We're looking for Castiel's grace, it's hidden somewhere in your heaven."

"Why us?" Said John, "What do we have to do with this." He grabbed Mary's upper arm defensively.

"He knew that we wouldn't want to go here."

"Why not?" Questioned Mary.

"It's Dean." Replied Cas.

"What about Dean," Asked John sternly. His eyes shot over to his older son and then wandered back to the angel.

Dean stepped back. His father couldn't know. He just couldn't. John would kill him. Hell, he was ready to kill Sam last time they'd seen him. He'd have Dean's head if he knew that the same blood that flowed through their veins lay still in his. He was their son, but he was a monster. They would have to forget one of these labels. He didn't know which they would, but he had a sense.

John took a step forward and Dean flinched back. Sam took a small step to the left, as if ready to position himself between them if he needed to. Dean was grateful. John looked suspicious.

"What are you hiding from me?" He said to Sam sternly, pulling Mary closer to his side.

She tore herself from his grasp and walked cautiously towards him. "Dean, please, talk to me." His mother reached a gentle hand in his direction. He looked at the other hand, the one that laid softly against her white night gown. Then he saw it. Her wedding ring. It was the same ring dean had worn for years around his own finger. She'd left it on the bedside table that last night and it was one of the only thing that they'd salvaged from the fire that night. It had been burned, dented, scratched, and resized more times than he could count, but it was still the same ring. Here, it looked clean, polished and pure, as if nothing had ever been wrong.

Castiel noticed a soft blue halo around it. That had to be it, his grace. There was so much energy there. As he stared, he could hear John.

"Sam, what are you hiding." His voice had risen and it was almost a yell now. Sam still did not reply. Dean got angry then. He fought to control himself. His father stared blankly at them.

"John," said Mary. He jutted his hand out towards Sam. Dean reacted on old instincts and grabbed at his wrist. John reacted as well, and struck dean clear across the face.

"Don't touch him." Sam said defensively.

Their mother was the first one to see. She gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Dean's eyes turned to black the moment his father struck him. John pushed Sam out of the way.

"What are you doing here." Bellowed John hatefully, "Go back to hell where you belong."

"Dad, no," Said Sam desperately "it's him, It's Dean." He could see tears streaming down his mother's face silently as she watched them. Sam couldn't stand to see it. He'd never seen her cry before.

"You come here, you impersonate my family," He continued, howling like a wounded Animal, "Get the hell away from us!"

"John, stop, it's him," Said Mary quietly, placing a hand over his chest to steady him.

"That's not our son." John spat coldly. "That's a monster."

Dean lowered his gaze in shame as tears welled in his green eyes. Cas stood in a defensive position next to his best friend, putting his arm protectively in front of Dean's torso.

"Mary, please." Cas said quietly.

She put her hand out to Dean, stroking his face gently, her cheeks still wet with tears. Her fingers brushed over the spot where John had struck him. Cas backed away and she spoke quietly to Dean. "Is it really you? She asked. Dean nodded and she relaxed a bit, letting her hand drop back to her side.

"I'll handle this, "She said looking back at Dean for a moment. "I believe you." Sam, Dean, and Cas backed off towards the swing set as Mary approached her husband. Until that point, they had thought that Mary wasn't the dominant one (giving her sweet and gentle nature) but they then noticed just how wrong they had been.

"You listen here you sorry son of a bitch," she hissed, "Those are my son's. Our sons. I don't give a rat's ass what you think because I know that's true. Now, Sam and Dean came here for help, and that's what they're going to get."

There she was then, the hard-assed Campbell girl; the woman who had become their mother. They were proud to call her their mother.

John nodded, "I'm sorry,"

"Damn right," She spat, and walked back over to where the three of them were standing.

"Now, what can I do to help?" She asked calmly.

"Your ring." Castiel said, "it holds my grace, if I touch it, we go back where we need to be."

She nodded. "Give me a moment with my boys, if you don't mind."

"Yes ma'am" Said Cas.

She walked over to them then, her green eyes wide with love and admiration. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for Mom." Said Sam softly.

"Don't I though," She said, smiling sadly, "I never got a chance to be your mother, Sam. You don't even remember me." Her voice cracked softly.

"Of course I do," He said gently, "How could I forget? You're my mom."

She shook her head.

"I remember this you know," Said Dean, "All of it. This day at the park, all those year's back. It's actually one of the best memories I have." He laughed nervously.

"Then I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to make more." Mary said firmly. "Alright Cas, I'm ready."

He nodded.

"Sam, Dean, I'm proud of you," She looked into Sam's brown eyes, then Dean's green ones, holding the gaze for a moment. "Both of you."

Dean remembered his last words _I'm proud of us. _She held out her hand then. Cas hesitated before he went to touch the ring. They saw Mary smile one last time, and then they were gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Wounded Healer

They were back in heaven central then. The room they were in was off to the side, not far from where they started out. All of them were rattled. It hadn't been easy, but they'd done it. They'd gotten the graceCas was crouched close to the floor, like a cat ready to pounce.

"Hey Cas, buddy," Dean said, shaking Cas' arm lightly, "You okay?"

Castiel straightened up then, turning to Dean. The ring was clutched tightly in his closed fist.

"I'm better than that Dean." A smile crossed his lips. His eyes flashed an effervescent blue for a moment, like a pair of angelic Christmas lights. He spread his wings. They were not perfect, not entirely unscathed, but they were his, and God, were they fantastic. "I'm an angel again."

Gabriel Waltzed in then "Good to see you back in the game, little bro," He said. Castiel smiled at him warmly and nodded. He looked like himself again, though it was somewhat inexplicable.

"I got you this," Said Gabe. He tossed something to Cas. "I'm not having any brother of mine stuck in Winchester wear." It was a new trench coat. Good thing too, Dean's ACDC shirt didn't really suit him anyhow. He was their nerd angel after all, he ought to dress like it. He snapped his fingers and was back to his signature outfit. It was a white button down, royal blue tie (tied with the skill of a toddler, no less) and, of course, his brand new trench coat. Classic Castiel.

While Cas had been restored to all of his former glory, they all still had work to do. Dean could hardly move. The ordeal had left him shaken. His father's reaction was pretty much what he had been expecting (not that he'd necessarily thought that there would even be one) but his mothers had been a bit of a shock.

Dean hadn't expected for her to be so readily willing to defend him. It really got to him when she had. She really had held her own against her husband and he really was a scary guy. Now that he'd seen that side of her, he could understand who Sam had gotten it from. It made him proud of them.

Sam had almost forgotten about the Polaroid in his pocket after the whole exchange with his parents. He wondered. Had it made it back from Jess' heaven? He checked his jacket pockets. Nothing. His heart sank. He hadn't expected for it to make it all the way back here, but he'd wanted it too so badly. Then he felt something in the shirt pocket over his heart.

He sighed in relief and pulled it from his pocket. When he got back to earth, Sam decided, he would make as many copies of this as he could. It was really her and she'd given it to him. Jessica Moore. He could still hardly believe it. God, he missed her more than ever now. No picture could fully capture her, but he didn't care. At least he had something now. It was better what he'd had before. She had left him with no more than burned fingers, the smell of smoke permanently lingering in his nostrils, and memories he couldn't erase. It was worse than nothing.

They all knew that they had a job to do. They needed the details on how to cure Dean. They had the ring, but now the dull blue glow had faded. It was just a ring again. Cas handed it to Dean. He nodded in gratitude and placed the ring delicately in his pocket.

They knew that they needed the full knight of hell cure. None of them was ready to call Crowley quite yet. He was the least of their problems right now. Also, Dean knew that suppressing the tendencies that came with the mark was hard enough without that bastard around. No one was going to argue against that.

Gabriel volunteered to do the "interrogation" himself if need be. They agreed. Every one of them knew that Gabriel had a bone to pick with the guy. Metatron had been playing God. It had been done before, but never with such flagrant disrespect for the title and all it entailed. He wasn't going to just stand back and take it. Gabriel wasn't sure what he had planned for the wayward angel, but he knew that it wouldn't be pretty.

They went back into the prisons for what they hoped would be the last time. Metatron was right where he had been last time. He was propped up in the corner of the cell with a scowl plastered on his bearded mouth.

"Here to find the job?" He said.

"You wish." Replied Gabriel coldly.

"Do I really?" Metatron said with a smirk, "I find that somewhat hard to believe."

"Believe it Metadouche, or I'll have you crying for mercy before you can lift a goddamn finger. Remember your place, or I'd be happy to demonstrate." Gabriel replied.

"Alright, cool it hot shot. What do you want from me?" Asked Metatron tiredly.

"We need the full spell to cure Dean," Castiel piped up.

Metatron looked him up and down "Back in rotation, eh Cas? How does it feel to have your wings back?"

"Just answer the question." Said Sam.

"Same spell as any other Demon curing spell, just swap out the human blood with angel. Hell, use mine for all I care." He shrugged, "I don't have much else to do with it."

"I'd rather not," Said Gabe, "He might catch your crazy."

"Very funny," said Metatron.

"Mine will suffice." Said Cas, "It is best, now that I have my grace back, to do something worthwhile with it."

"You think I'm worthwhile?" Dean said, raising one eyebrow.

"I always have. You should know that by now Dean." Said Cas matter-of-factly. Sam nodded as if to confirm that he agreed with the angel.

"Well, that settles that," Said Gabe, "We've got work to do boys."

They began to leave when Metatron felt the need to open his mouth one last time.

"What are you planning on doing with me Gabe? I know this isn't exactly a first rate offense to you, being the daddy's boy that you are." He said with a slight smirk.

Gabriel's eyes went cold and his stare was sharp as needles. Anyone in their right mind would have been shaking in their boots at the sight of it. Archangel was just a word; it didn't begin to cover the real thing. All of them knew what it meant, but as far as definitions go, Gabriel exceeded his. For just a moment the lights in the hallway flickered. Earlier, Cas had revealed his wings, but Gabriel's were different.

Cas' wings were made of shadow, Gabriel's were made of light. They showed for a split second, and for that fraction of time they were the only thing any of them could see. It was impossible to turn away. The feathers were carved from the sun, sewn together with the tails of comets. The darkness of the hallway cradled the light like the night does the stars. Then, they were gone.

"Don't disrespect me Metatron." He said before turning and sashaying down the hallway. Metatron nodded. The Winchesters and Cas followed him down the hallway stiffly. It was a new side of him, something they'd never seen before. It was terrifying.

Once they got back to the bunker, they tried to figure out their options. For obvious reasons, dean was more than a little uncomfortable with the conversation. He'd seen this type of thing go down before. It never ended pretty. Last time, Sam had almost died.

He prayed to God that Cas would make it out all right. He didn't need any more blood on his hands. There were already oceans there, and that kind of carnage would never go away. He knew that by now, it was all he could do to try to minimize the damage.

They went into the dungeon and checked up on the devil's trap. In addition to it, they painted a key of Solomon overhead. While Sam and Gabriel prepped the hand cuffs and made a fresh jug of holy water, Dean pulled Cas aside.

"Why are you doing this Cas?" He asked bluntly.

"You know why," Cas replied, "We're family, you said it yourself." His voice dropped an octave, "I know how this hurt's you Dean, and I refuse to stand by and watch. When I rescued you from hell, I vowed to protect you. I broke my vow Dean. I deserve whatever happens now."

"Don't say it like that Cas. You did your best." Dean said sympathetically, putting his hand on the angel's shoulder. Castiel brushed him off.

"And it wasn't good enough." Cas said bluntly. "I'm making it right, Dean. You have to let me." Dean nodded and Cas walked away to help their brother's ready the trap.

Dean stepped in, locking the chains himself. He could feel the weight of both of the devil's traps settle around him. Sam opened the leather bound book of exorcisms, flipping to the page where the correct spell was held. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath.

"Ready, Dean, Cas?" Asked Sam. In response Cas grabbed the book from his hands. He looked at Dean, who nodded solemnly. Gabriel and Sam stood back, Gabe wielding a gun and Sam a rosary.

Cas took an angel blade from his pocket and dug it into his palm. He continued with the ceremony then, uttering the spell in a voice that was strong, yet barely audible.

The second the blood touched Dean, a flood of memories bombarded his mind.

He could see his mother's face, clear as day. Her blonde hair hung loose and messy over her pale, narrow shoulders. She leaned over Dean's bedside, singing softly. Hey Jude was the song. Every note stung as vividly as a slap to the face. Then he heard the words, those same five words that had haunted him ever since.

"Angel's are watching over you"

The world came back into focus then. Cas stood cautiously a couple feet away, his feet were placed carefully the edge of the devil's trap. Gabe and Sam were standing close behind, both rigid and wielding weapons. Dean didn't say a word for the duration of the hour, just waited for the next dose of blood. When it came he stopped a moment to look Cas in the eyes. There were tears there. He uttered the incantation and dean was once again thrust back into his own mind.

He saw it then, flashing before his eyes in disjointed images. They were faces, seemingly random, until he saw the pattern. It was every person he'd ever failed on a hunt. There were hundreds, hell, maybe even thousands. He didn't want to see any of them, not a single one.

The next five doses were brutal and painful. He could see the hope drain from Cas' eyes with each one.

The third brought physical pain. He could feel every scar on his skin, every bone that he'd ever broken, and every blow his father had delivered when he got just a little too drunk to control them. Every wound he'd ever had reopened, and damn they hurt. They ached without so much as a moment of relief as Castiel continued on with the trials.

The rest of the trials blurred together into a bloody, terrifying mess. With each stage a new memory was delivered to him. This time though, they were not his. He saw through Ellen Harvelle's eyes as Jo died in her arms the moment before the explosion took her too. He saw the Cage from Sam's perspective. He felt his hand pull the trigger as Bobby shot his own father as a child. The last of the memories was his father's. He watched Azazel's eyes glitter with glee as John ss readily traded his life for Dean's all those years ago.

As the final dose of angel's blood passed into his bloodstream all of the pain subsided. He saw the world for what it really was. The Dean understood just why it had affected Crowley the way that it had. He could see everything, no filter, no lies to soften the blow.

There was Gabriel. He was an angel who had seen too much. He hadn't wanted any of it. Throughout his entire life he'd sat idly by as his brother's tore at each other's throats. Michael and Lucifer hadn't stopped to think of him, not once. Gabriel was the martyr of a war he hadn't started.

There was Castiel, the little angel that could. Dean knew that the Winchesters were the closest to a family he'd ever had. It didn't matter that they weren't family by blood. They were more than that. Dean would have died for Cas, and Cas for him. He prayed to whatever god there was in heaven that neither of them would ever have to. They'd both seen so much, been through so much, and they'd done it all together. They'd done it as brothers. That was enough to make anyone family.

Lastly, there was Sam, Sammy. Dean had raised him when his father couldn't. He'd given everything up for the kid, and he'd do it again any damn day. Sam deserved it. He didn't deserve this though. He had tears in his eyes and the weight of a world he couldn't save resting on his shoulders. He took the load because he had no choice. If Dean could have, he'd have taken it himself. There was a gun in Sam's hands. His fingers rested on the trigger, ready to pull it at a moment's notice. Dean knew that he would have to fight to control himself o that Sam didn't have to.

"I'm sorry Sammy." Dean said, his voice cracking with the tears he fought to control. He lowered his gun for a moment. Dean allowed a single tear to slip from his eye. "I'm sorry Cas."

"You have nothing to be sorry for Dean." Sam said strongly. Dean opened his mouth to reply, wincing with the pain of the trial. Cas cut him off, "Sam is right. Don't apologize." Dean lowered his gaze and nodded sheepishly.

Cas approached him to deliver the last incantation. Dean refused to look at him with his dead black eyes, so he kept his head down. Cas grabbed his chin and tilted it upward, forcing Dean to look him in the eye. "We're family Dean," He motioned back to Sam with his hand, "All of us. There is nothing that we wouldn't do for you."

He dropped his hand and began the procedure. The second he began to say the spell, Dean let out an inhuman howl. He could feel the entirety of hell being drawn from his body as his soul wrestled amongst itself like a game of tug-of-war. The mark was white hot, and the cement cracked beneath his feet. Castiel held his hand to Dean' mouth and he could feel something snap deep inside of him. He clenched his teeth and waited for the pain to end. His blood boiled soft gold, lik candle light pumping through his veins. The skin of his forearm split and his blood spattered to the cold concrete floor. Then, it faded back to a dull crimson as the trial came to a close.

It was done.

Dean exhaled sharply, feeling his heart beat again for the first time in what felt like forever. The shackles had been broken, falling limply to his side when he went to stand. The three of them across the room stood tense with weapons raised. He walked steadily towards them. Dean stopped in his tracks when he felt a tremor beneath him.

It was like the shot of a canon, a single drumbeat from beneath the crust of the earth. It sounded like the slam of some great gate. In the next room, glass shattered as the world was tossed momentarily. It ended as abruptly as it had started, a single tremor, swift and forceful. Cas and Gabriel had their hand's clamped over their ears.

"What is it?" asked Dean, his voice laced with panic.

"Hell, "said Gabriel, sharing a glance with Cas, "The gate's been sealed."


	10. Chapter 10

Team Free Will

At first, the boys were confused (with good reason) as to how the trials had been completed. If they really had been, why hadn't Castiel died? When Sam had tried to do the same he'd been left pretty damn torn up. Castiel had a hard time understanding himself, to b perfectly honest, but the more they thought about it, the more sense it made.

The first trial; saving an innocent man from hell was not something that happened just any old day, it was a rarity. Dean Winchester was the very first human to be raised from hell. He'd traded his soul for his brother after Sam had been killed in a cruel plot to prove his strength as the boy with the demon blood. As far as the demons were concerned then, he had failed. They underestimated one fact though, Winchester's don't die easily.

Only a handful of demons actually knew the Angel's plot at that point, so they just went about their business, fighting for a demon war that would never come. They had always thought that the world would go out with a bang; they'd thought humanity would go down swinging. They were wrong.

The Angels knew that if the world was to end, it would be with a whimper, not a bang. Dean was too important for them to allow him to walk off of the chess board. He was the Michael sword; they had big plans for him.

Castiel had been the one to do the deed, to raise him from perdition. He was just another foot soldier then, disposable as they come to higher angels. They hadn't expected what happened next, though. Cas had left a mark on the soul of Dean though, imprinted on him and a way, and from that moment on, he was lost. He was an angel that learned to love, and for that he fell.

Not many had been saved from hell (only three people including Dean) which meant that in turn, not many could have completed the trials. When Cas raised dean, he became a contender.

The second trial, killing a hell hound, was where Sam and Dean had found confusion. As far as they remembered, Castiel had done no such thing. Castiel corrected them, turns out that there was a lot they didn't know about the guy.

After Dean had gotten out of hell, Cas had been forced to kill many. It was a second part to the act he had already performed, though it wasn't much easier. One thing that is well known about the hell hounds is that once they get a whiff of you, they don't forget it.

A hellhound isn't the type of thing you can shake easily, they're on your heels for life. Once Dean was released from the pit, he had a price on his head. The hounds had been on his ass from the moment he got topside. Cas had already been assigned to protect the vessel, so when the hellhounds caught his scent, Cas knew that it was only a matter of time before he was a demonic chew toy.

He did what had to be done. It was messy work, but necessary in order to protect the vessel. After all, Dean was basically the Ferrari (or the Impala, depending on who you ask) of vessels. A vessel, that was all he had been to Cas then. Funny how much things had changed since then.

The third trial had happened only a moment ago. The air felt different somehow, clearer. It was like a terrible weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

"How does it work?" Asked Dean, "The whole Hell thing."

"Pretty much as you'd expect, it's locked up good and proper, no demon's running topside from now til', well, ever." Said Gabriel, shrugging vaguely.

"What about all the people? The one's who weren't quite in full transition?" Sam asked.

"I personally don't give a rat's ass about them, they got themselves there. None of them were forced to do what got them there." Said Dean.

"What if they're stuck, Dean?" Said Sam angrily, "You know better than any us why that isn't exactly a good thing."

"Boys, please," Interjected Gabriel, "Only demons, hellhounds, and my big brothers are stuck, no humans."

"Why not?" Asked Sam.

"Hell is a prison, Samsquatch, an angel prison." Gabriel Explained, "Human's don't belong, that's where demons come from in the first place. They didn't fit, so they adapted. All the people who haven't quite turned made it through. They're all still human, and they're all I heaven now."

"Adam," Sam said, "Is he out of the cage? I thought the lock was sealed pretty tight down there."

"It was, but you of all people should know Sam Winchester, there are loopholes, just not for those intended to keep inside." Castiel replied.

Now that they'd dealt with Hell, they had to deal with heaven. At that point there were only two options. Castiel could choose to stay, or he could choose to go.

If he stayed, he would be just an angel; he would have no power, no ranks, and no control. He would have a family though, he'd have the Winchesters. Even through it all, Metatron had been right about one thing. All of this, all this mess had been for their sake. He regretted none of it. Would he stay though, Gabriel was family too, just of a different kind. He was family by blood. Cas didn't know which was more important to him anymore, it used to be so clear to him, one or the other. Now the lines had faded.

If he left, he and Gabriel could rule side by side, so he wouldn't have to be alone in doing so. Cas already knew that power corrupted him, he really was in his heart, just a soldier. Maybe he could do it if he didn't have to do it on his own. Then again, maybe he couldn't. Castiel knew that he couldn't fail again. There was always that chance, and he didn't know whether or not he was willing to risk it this time the way he had so flagrantly done so before.

He didn't have much time to decide.

They cleaned up the dungeon then. There was blood splattered on the floor like a demented form of abstract art/ Dean didn't remember exactly where it had come from, but when he looked down at his hands, he could make a guess. They were ragged and caked with blood. It looked like he had gotten into an arm wrestling match with a lawn mower, especially on the side where the mark had been. In its place now was an impressive gash.

"Son of a bitch," He muttered under his breath. He called out to Cas, who was putting the demon chains back together with his angel mojo. "Hey feathers, I could use a hand over here."

Cas looked over his shoulder at Dean. The blood was still dripping onto the floor, sounding quite a bit like a leaking tap.

"Jesus Dean" Gasped Sam, rushing over to his brother's side. It was a lot of blood, "Think you could have mentioned this just a bit sooner."

Dean stumbled a bit. It really was a _lot_ of blood. Sam crouched over and propped his older brother up on one of his broad shoulders.

"I've got it," said Gabriel, rolling up his sleeves casually.

"No," Dean interjected. Gabriel stepped back defensively.

"What's wrong?" He said, sounding somewhat offended, "My mojo not good enough for you?"

"I…" Dean said sheepishly, "I want Cas to do it."

Cas nodded, dropping the handcuffs he had been mending and walking swiftly over to Dean. He grabbed his forearms delicately.

Castiel never really had gotten the concept of personal space. He was a bit too close for comfort at that moment. Dean could finally get a good look at him. His eyes held too much weight on his shoulders, and had more sorrow in his blue eyes then there should have been. Still Castiel had a quiet strength about him. It was fascinating.

Cas placed one hand on the arm where he had left his handprint from hell all those years ago, and placed the other over where the mark had been. Dean flinched. Cas looked up at him for a moment before closing his eyes and focused. Thjey all knew that in order for an angel to heal someone, there didn't have to be contact. That was just how Cas liked to do things. Dean could feel his ragged wounds mend. It wasn't the first time Cas had healed him. Still, every time it never failed to feel really damn weird.

When it was done, Cas dropped his arm. Dean shook it off and began to walk away. Before he could get far though, Cas pulled him into a hug.

"It's good to have you back Dean." Cas said, smiling.

"Oh god, you two," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes, "Get a room."

Sam laughed. It was a noise none of them had heard in months. Sure, he'd laughed, but not like that. His laughs recently had been as fake as a Kardashian sister. Mostly, they were just courteous. This was real. It was clear and clean like morning bells. Dean had missed this laugh. He knew that it was about time it made its reappearance.

Cas flaunted his angel powers as they cleaned up the bunker. Every problem he had, he found a way to fix t with just a snap of his fingers. He looked like a kid at Christmas. After a while, Dean decided that it was time he told them whether or not he'd been staying.

"So Cas, what's the plan?" Dean asked, "With heaven and stuff, I mean."

Cas stopped for a moment, not responding to Dean's question. He put down the shot glass that he'd just finished mending and turned to Gabriel.

"You said that if I gave you control, you'd be deciding Metatron's punishment," Cas tilted his head, "If I do, what are you planning?"

"Actually, not much," said Gabe with a shrug, "Just a cell change is all."

"What do you mean?" Cas asked, obviously confused.

"Gadreel's cell. It's been repaired, all except for one little detail."

"And what is that?" Cas raised his eyebrows.

"His wing marks are still there." Gabriel said, " I say we toss his ass in their for a couple infinities, let him rot with'em." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance.

Cas nodded. "That seems just."

"Alright then," Gabriel responded.

"I guess I'll stay then. I do have conditions though." Cas said, "I just want to be an angel, like I used to be. I want for you keep me in contact. If you need me, I'll be here. I want for the angels to stay away from earth, with the exceptions of a few low level miracles."

"Seems fair enough," Gabriel said.

"I'm not done," Said Cas. He sighed. "When the Winchester's die, I go with them."

"Cas...?" said Dean.

"I want to be able to join them in _their_ heaven, not yours. Got it?"

"Got it," Said Gabriel, "See you on the flipside." He nodded to all of them before smiling softly and disappearing for one last time.

A few mont's later they found themselves on the road again. It seemed they always did. Rock music blasted into the hot summer air as it blew past their windows.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like the whole mess had ended the way that it should have. They had their pasts behind them and the future ahead. Cas looked out onto the road in front of them and smiled. He couldn't see the end from here, and he hoped there would never be one. Dean could have driven this road forever, without destination and without restraint. He had his brother in the shotgun seat and his angel in back. They had no hellhounds on their tail, no halo's overhead, and they could finally breathe free because of it.

They had a new start, a new beginning, and that was all they'd ever really wanted in the first place.

"We've got a long road ahead of us, guys. You ready Cas?" Asked Sam.

"Absolutely," He said, "Team Free Will."

"Damn straight," Replied Dean. And for a while, even if it wouldn't last forever, they were all together, right where they belonged. Saving people and hunting things, just the way the y always had.

The End.


End file.
